#Ivory Caste Signs

[ticktockstuck-ezodiac]

COLURICA Sign of the Offcast

COL(U)* = Ivory Sign • *RICA = Prospit + Speed

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#834: A sign for those recklessly pursuing success, not for glory but for the consoling relief that their actions matter. There's a wound in their hearts that they believe can only be filled with satisfaction and approval.

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Ivory Signs • Speedbound Signs • Prospit Signs

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

lotus

a/n: this has been sitting half-written on my pc for i don't even know how many months (tbh at least half a year. i was living somewhere else when i started it wow). finally took a deep breath and finished it (though with an ending that kinda flies by a bit because just wanted it to get done. i was scared that the story would never see the light of day, so zooming through the ending was a better option)

summary: a nervous breath then escaped his lungs before he uttered, “you do know what kind of massage this is, right?” to which you only blinked back at him all the same, none of your shock evaporation at his words, “you know that I’m here to give you more than just a regular massage?”

warnings: massage therapist!bucky barnes x reader, smut, sex worker!bucky, bucky doesn't have the metal arm in this one, thinking that your friend just signed you up for a normal massage but then it turns out to be an erotic one, kissing, dirty talk, manhandling, fingering, toys, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, anal, double penetration

word count: 4000

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With a hand tangled up in one of the ties of the robe you wore, you answered your front door after finally hearing the bells chime.

“Hi,” a soft smile swiftly warmed up the features of the man standing on the other side of the threshold, “are you miss Y/l/n?”

“Yeah, I am,” a tingle of nerves flickered through your body as your gaze washed over him, “you must be the masseuse.”

Why did he have to be so attractive? If it was this difficult to remember to breathe when he was standing completely out of your reach, then how were you going to survive a guy such as him touching you?

Following your gaze down to the folded-up table he carried, he nodded, “guilty,” before setting down the duffle bag he clutched in his other hand and extended it for you to grasp, “my name is Bucky.”

“Bucky,” you briefly shook it, “nice to meet you.”

“You too,” the touch faded, and he bent down to pick the supplies back up, “so, where should I set up?”

“Oh, in here, in the living room,” you gestured behind you and shifted to the side for him to enter. As he set up everything, you stayed at the perimeter and felt your heartbeat thump behind your ribcage, “is it weird that I’m a bit nervous?” you then quietly asked.

Briefly pausing his actions as he unfurled the massage table, he cast a glance your way.

“It’s not weird at all, it’s okay,” he stated in a calm tone, “but I assure you, this is a completely safe space, you’re in good hands.”

“I just–, this wasn’t exactly my idea, or even at all,” your hands fiddle further with the terrycloth tie around your waist as you began to ramble, “Nat, my friend, she told me that I needed to relax, so she booked this appointment for me as a treat. I don’t even know what it is she signed me up for, if it was just like a little five-minute long thing or what.”

“Oh no, she signed you up for the full package, 90 minutes.” 

“Really?” your eyebrows rose, “wow, that’s amazing.”

Once the table was set up and he rummaged through the bag for a towel as well as other supplies, his low timbre filled the room once more.

“So, before we start, I’d just like to ask if there’s anything off limits to you, anything you don’t like or that you’re not interested in? Or perhaps something in particular you’d like today?”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” your eyes narrowed slightly as you thought, quickly scanning through your body to get a good sense, “you can just be as rough with me as you want.”

“Alright, you like it rough, good to know,” you felt yourself suck in a silent breath at the way the phrase fell from his lips, “you ready to begin?”

“Yep,” you swallowed, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered he seemed to make you. 

He then lifted up the ivory sheets he’d sprawled out on the plush bench and held it up high, giving you a smidge of privacy as you dropped your robe to a nearby armchair, before laying down on the table and feeling the cotton drape over you. 

As you layed there on your stomach with your face comfortably nestled in the little nook, you sensed Bucky adjust the fabric, folding it down so that your entire back was exposed. 

A dull click found your ears as he pumped some oil into his palm. The very first touch conjured a brisk breath to fill your lungs as his hands slid along your spine, spreading the slickness around. 

Though when you finally managed to force yourself to relax into his touch, a soft moan slipped from your lips as his meticulous grip found a muscle particularly sore.

“Sorry,” you timidly apologized for the sound. 

But he simply zeroed in on the very spot that had made you groan and said, “don’t apologize, whatever bubbles up, please let it out.”

Your lips stayed half parted as his touch dug deeper, “it just feels really good right there...”

“Yeah, you seem to be holding a lot of tension in your back, especially right here between your shoulder blades.”

“Probably all the time on the couch,” you let out a pitiful chuckle, “I just kept on getting into uncomfortable positions and then stayed like that. Which, funnily enough, is pretty symbolic of how I ended up there in the first place, stuffing my face with Ben and Jerry’s and binging the most depressing of romcoms.”

“Bad breakup?” he guessed. 

“I don’t think you can call it a break-up if you never really were together in the first place,” you let out a sigh. Yet again had you fallen for a guy who’d turned out to be a complete and utter asshole, “men are just pigs,” you spat out, “no offence.”

“Oh, none taken,” he uttered, “you know, it’s actually very common for people to get this particular treatment after something like that.”

“Really? Your touch is on the same level as bawling your eyes out to Joni Mitchell?” you jested, “well, now I’m really happy that I let my friend talk me into this.”

Soon, when his touch had kneaded every inch of your back, it faded away and reappeared lower on your frame as you then felt him fold the sheet up to expose your legs, letting the thin fabric only drape across and cover the curve of your bottom. 

Once his touch had soothingly wandered up the length of your legs and as his broad palms dented your slightly parted thighs, you nearly didn’t notice through the trance-like state you’d drifted off to when his reach crept close enough to your core to feel the heat radiating off it. A gasp parted your lips as his fingers briefly ghosted against the very outside of your puff before retreating back down your thigh. 

“Is it alright if remove this for a bit?” he then asked as you felt his hand clutch the sliver of modesty that remained. 

“Oh, uhm,” you fought to comprehend his question through the haze you’d slipped into, both the haze of relaxation, though maybe more predominately the haze of sin, which was most likely what had swayed you to utter, “sure,” trying your best to stay calm as he removed the sheet completely. 

It became a difficult task to keep your quiet noises at bay and have them not seep through your heavy breath as he then began to massage the soft peak of your butt. 

You tried to remind yourself that it was the biggest muscle on the human body and thereby completely normal to be treated in this manner, but that truth would have been easier to swallow if it had been a less attractive specimen touching you in such a way. 

Eventually, Bucky’s lavish rubs came to spread you apart with each repetitive motion, surely granting himself a perfect view of just how mortifyingly wet you’d become. 

As he let his broad thumbs dig into your sitting points, you told yourself it was the slipperiness of the oil that caused his fingers to sweep closer to your core and not your own nectar that had leaked down towards his touch. 

It felt so good that your hips unconsciously tilted up and into his touch, as his thumbs slid close enough to caress your outer lips, nearly capturing them in a gentle pinch. 

You didn’t know how long it took, how long you essentially grinded into him as if you were in heat, but eventually, you snapped out of your fog and realized just where his fingers were. 

“U-uh… w-what are you doing?” your frame jumped slightly at the realization.

“Do you not like this?” his touch paused, though didn’t retreat. 

“Why–, uhm…” you nearly panted, “you’re just very close to somewhere else.”

And when he simply uttered, “yeah, I know,” in an almost amused and cocky tone. You swiftly propped yourself up onto your arms and glared back at him, successfully prompting him to rip his hands away.

Snatching the sheet back over your frame as you scrambled to a seat, you stared back at him in utter shock, “I’m sorry, but are you actually trying to sleep with me right now?”

His brows furrowed slightly as he blinked back at you, seemingly confused at your outburst, “I’m just doing my job.”

“I’ve had massages before, that was not–… that right there was something else. That was not you doing your job, that was your hands being persuaded by your dick.”

A nervous breath then escaped his lungs before he uttered, “you do know what kind of massage this is, right?” to which you only blinked back at him all the same, none of your shock evaporation at his words, “you know that I’m here to give you more than just a regular massage?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh boy, I’m sorry, I thought you knew…” his glance fell to the floor as he then began to enlighten, “well, the lotus wellness center, where I work, specializes in the blend of not just physical and mental health, but also sexual health and satisfaction. An erotic massage, like the one you were signed up for, is one of the many services we offer.”

Your eyes had grown as wide as saucers during his explanation, “o-oh…”

“I totally understand if you wanna stop, if you’re not interested.”

“I–…” you tried to make heads or tails of the situation you found yourself in, “so you were gonna–, what? Fuck me?”

“I was gonna try and make you feel good, help you relax and unwind. You were signed up for the aurelia treatment which would involve me using my hands to pleasure you, as well as whatever toys you might be interested in.”

“Toys?”

“Yes, I have a generous collection with me,” he briefly gestured back to the duffle bag resting on the couch. 

“Okay, uhm…” one of your palms came down to brush over your features as you fought to comprehend it all.

“Do you want me to pack up and go?” you heard him ask. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, before you even realized it was moving, you shook your head. Letting your gaze flutter back up to find his, you exhaled lowly, “fuck…”

“I can also just give you a completely traditional massage if that’s what you want.”

“…and if I wanna try the other thing?” you nearly whispered. 

“Do you?”  

“I–…” you tried to speak, though couldn’t find the words and ended up just hazily nodding back at him. 

“Alright,” he gently mirrored the nod that still faintly rocked your head, “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, I promise. You just say the word, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathed, shivering slightly at the tingle of goosebumps that spread across your flesh. 

The way he held your gaze a moment longer before shifting it to the massage table you still sat upon made you feel as if you might melt off it entirely.

“Lay back down,” he faintly nodded to the bench. 

Your eyes stayed glued on him long after you now layed sprawled out on your back. 

Letting his touch graze the sheet you still absentmindedly clutched to your chest, he asked, “do you wanna keep this on?”

“No,” you shook your head faintly, “you can remove it.”

“Okay,” he gently peeled the fabric off of you, “just say if you get cold, alright?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fantasy you found yourself in. 

He began by working at your arms, tenderly spreading some oil across them and massaging down the length of them, one at a time, till his skilful fingers descended to work at your palms. It nearly felt as if he was merely holding your hand before he tossed you into the deep end with how intimate the simple beginning sensed. 

You couldn’t command your gaze to leave his visage as you traced his every move as if he was made of stardust. 

When his warmth let go of your hand, he reached for the bottle of oil that didn’t have a pump and unscrewed the top. Your bottom lip got caught by your teeth as he then poured a bit out over your stomach, curving the s-waves of droplets all the way up and across your boobs, dripping over your pebbly nipples as they stared back at him. 

As Bucky began to rub it in, he first stared softly down at your belly before swooping up, only to skip over your tits entirely and instead yanking a disappointed whimper from your lungs as he then commenced massaging your shoulders. 

You felt a bit lightheaded as you blinked up at him, all tall and broad, looming above your head and digging his warm touch into the base of your neck. 

Though when his rough palms finally did swoop down to caress your soft peaks, he quietly checked in, “this okay?” to which you simply nodded your head, eyebrows knitting together at the intenseness of the built-up anticipation.

Your entire chest cage heaved beneath his touch as he finally massaged your boobs, even occasionally fleeting away to ghost across your nipples, only to capture them in a pinch the next moment. 

You felt as if you were floating down a calm stream, letting the river of sin take you somewhere new and wonderful. 

Eventually, his broad palms swept up and down your form, though each time his reach dared to near your core, he barely touched you at all, missing entirely the spots that throbbed for attention, which of course only caused the sensation to deepen and render you even more desperate from his teasing. 

When he then shifted to stand to the side of the patted table, his deep voice washed over you once more as his touch stayed warm against your skin.

“Everything okay so far?”

“Yeah…” you hummed as you lazily blinked up at him, and the soft smile that curved your lips caused a similar one to bloom upon his own. 

His slow stride then carried him further down till his fingers began to dent the softness of your thighs. 

After he’d made your eyes flutter at the way he worked at the muscles in your legs, focusing on one thigh at a time, slowing working his way up till his fingertips stretched to dizzily brush against your outermost petals, it was then, that his sweeps grew and blossomed till one fleeting tease to your centre morphed into more as he kept coming back, each fluttering time slowly transforming till the maddening pets had become everything you’d dreamed of.

Soft whimpers flowed out of your lungs as he gently folded each of your legs up by your sides and cracked you wide open for him.  

As he gazed down at you with such intensity you’d never experienced before, it only took one step for him to change his angle and stand tall next to your hips. 

Letting his palms run up your inner thighs, the edges of each of his broad thumbs then met and joined on either side of your pussy as he captured it in a light pinch, making you moan softly, “fuck….” as his touch rolled your clit through your glistening puff. 

You nearly didn’t catch it because of how hard your own pants were, but Bucky’s own breaths had picked up as well and with a few stray curses seeping through his teeth as he continued to pluck at the strings of your pleasure. 

But then, before you could truly lose yourself to the ecstasy you felt flicking in your periphery, his hands slipped away, a smirk fast on his lips as a whine escaped you and he returned his attention to the rest of your body. Though thankfully, his torture only carried on a short moment before he finally granted you the first of many treats.

“Oh, yeah,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rubbed your clit and carried you over the peak. 

“Right there?” he leaned down closer to you as he kept up his pace, his free hand coming to rest right beside your head as he loomed over you. 

“Yeah,” you breathlessly panted as your body trembled beneath his touch. 

“Yeah?” he huskily echoed, nearly sharing your breath as he drew out your orgasm for as long as he could, and even as your body began to squirm at the sensitivity that swiftly set in, his touch never left you, only lightened to make it bearable and tickle you back from the high. 

He studied your features fiercely as his fingers then came down to tease your entrance. 

“How about this?” your leaky hole swallowed up the two digits he swiftly filled it with, “how’s that? Is that what you want?”

“Oh fuck!” your back briefly arched and lifted you off the table, closer to him for but a moment as sloppy sounds of your want echoed at the slow rhythm he played you at. 

“Or do you need a little more maybe?” he sneaked another finger inside, “huh?” his frame then bent down till you could feel his hot breath fan across your face, “what do you want? You want something more to make you feel good right here?” his fingers slid back out of your pussy and fluttered up till they found your puffy pearl, “or here?” he briefly soared back down to plug up your cunt once more, but only offered you one messily rock before his digits slipped back out and drifted down much further than you expected, “or maybe even here?” you let out a gasp as the slick pads of his fingers glided over your little rosebud. 

“I–, I–,” you struggled to answer him, feeling so foggy that you might just fall off the table, “fuck…” 

“I have any toy you could dream of with me,” he purred as your grip found his shirt for support, “so, what do you want?”

“I want–, I want–”

“What?” he pushed as he continued to stare down into your eyes. 

And as blinked back at him, only one wish came to mind, one that you timidly whispered, “y-you…”

But as fear began to prickle at your nerves, they all dissipated as the masseuse wasn’t offended at all, your words somehow conjuring a dazzled smile to appear upon his lip before he then chuckled warmly, “roll over for me.”

You nearly gave yourself whiplash from the hast you tried to fulfil his command.         

As he soon kneeled down to be on level with where your head was now twisted and resting on its side, his hand drifted up for you to spot the dildo clutched in his grasp. 

Handing it off to your flicking fingers, his touch briefly lingered on your cheek, stroking it softly as he said, “then pretend this is me, will you? Get it nice and sloppy for me.”

When you began to plant pecks across the silicon, your eyes shadowed him as far as they could as he straightened back up and walked back far enough to disappear from your sight, only for you to know where he’d gone to once you felt his mouth begin to devour you whole. 

It became difficult to concentrate on the task he’d given you, so much so that he had to remind you each time his lavish tongue buried between your legs caused your own to forget itself. 

Arching your ass further up towards his efforts, he tilted away from your drooling cunt and instead nipped up till he lapped against your other hole. 

“Oh, that feels really good,” you moaned around the dildo as you tried to catch a glimpse of him, though only saw the edge of one of his hands and they dented your bottom. 

“Yeah?” he let a dollop of spit drop to your rosebud before he nudged the pad of a thumb against it, “you like having this little hole played with?”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, then watched as he momentarily dipped away to snatch up a butt plug from the zipped-open treasure trove his bag was. 

Once the toy was snugly buried within your little ass, he snatched the dildo out of your mouth and a string of your drool chased the silicone as he brought it back to tap against the sloppy petals of your pussy. 

It didn’t take very long after he’d begun to fuck you with the toy that you tumbled over the edge once more, making you that much more malleable when he yanked at your legs and manhandled you down to the bottom of the bench till your unsteady feet were once again on the floor and he had you bent over the table like a needy whore. 

That was also when your weak pleas began to bubble out, begging for him to fill you up with something other than a toy. 

Even though you couldn’t see his face, you swore you heard a tinge of astonishment in his tone when he asked you to clarify, making sure it really was him that had you begging and not just the way he made you feel. 

Though once you finally managed to convey the sincerity of your words and convince him of the way he and not just the acts he was performing, drove you wild, it was in the middle of chasing your next high that he broke his pattern and traded out the dildo with his own hard cock. 

A low moan seeped across your spine as he buried his length completely and let himself melt down against your back. Letting himself savour the sweetness of your warmth clenching around his fat girth, it took him a while before he finally began to move and soon found a steady pace that had your toes curling against the floorboards. 

His fingers gently dug into the soreness still remaining all down your back as his hips repeatedly collided with the plush of your ass in desperate thrusts. Though as his digits worked their way down the length of your spine, they eventually found the little plug that still remained in your ass. 

Teasingly twisting the toy, you thought that was everything he had planned, though all of those fantasies fluttered away when he suddenly yanked the small plug out and switched it with the bigger toy still firm in his grasp, your little hole only managing to wink up at him before he stuffed it full once more. 

You lost track of the amount of times he made you cum as the remainder of the intense dance became a bit of a blur. At one point he had you flipped around and lying on your back, gasping up at him as he folded you in half and nearly broke the massage table beneath you from how hard his deep strokes were. At the next, the dildo he drove you mad with was traded out with his own fat cock and he conjured a vibrating wand to hold against your puffy clit as he watched your pussy leak from the bliss. But at the end, once you were nothing more than a puddle on the table, his load painted against your tits as he let his frame drape down atop of yours, a hazy question left your lips.

“Is that usually how that goes?” you asked as you both panted, plastered against one another. 

Raising himself up only enough for his eye to catch your own, he uttered sincerely, “no…” and his gaze flickered down towards your lips, “no, it is not…” before he let himself give you the thing you hadn’t dared to request. The kiss was so sweet it nearly caused you to forget the sinful acts you’d just wrapped up.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[chrollogy]

SUNSET DREAMS ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

kageyama tobio x afab!reader

╰┈➤ part of house of solis occasum’s summer fic exchange for @mcdonaldsnumberone !

synopsis: The tall, raven-haired surf instructor catches your attention during a private surfing lesson with your friends but due to circumstances, there was no space for small talk. Later that afternoon, you cross paths once again at a beach club—a sign from the universe to grab the opportunity, and get to know him better. This quickly leads to a turn of events where you both end up naked in bed, and eager to explore each other’s bodies but there’s just one thing though, he’s a virgin.

content warning: beach au, surf instructor!/surfer!kageyama, poor depiction of surfing, bartender!hinata cameo, alcohol use, awkward flirting, i am making kags PATHETIC, summer fling/beach romance, nsfw, smut (mdni), virgin!kageyama, bottom!kageyama, top!reader, virginity loss (m), porn without plot, handjob, cum eating, unprotected s*x, creampie, multiple orgasms (m), not beta read.

word count: 6.3k

notes: eeeeep it’s my first time writing for mr tobio but i absolutely had fun !! i hope you enjoy mac :3 divider: cafekitsune.

The scorching sun amongst the cerulean skies kissed your warm skin, the scent of salt, and sea lingered in the air as a summer breeze blew by; sounds of heavy waves from the crystalline water, and distant chatters from avid beach goers filled your senses. It was hot, and humid with no ivory clouds in sight—the perfect formula for a quick summer getaway. The beach buzzed with liveliness; colourful hues of towels, and essentials laid upon the white sand, kids with plastic buckets, and shovels eagerly building sand castles, surfers chasing the endless azure waves beneath the blazing sun.

Just the sight of swells had your heart thumping with adrenaline rush, a vivid imagery of yourself attempting to ride the waves formulated in your mind. You’ve never tried surfing before but today was the perfect time to do so—a completely out of the blue suggestion by one of your friends, not that you were complaining. It was always nice to try new things, anyway.

“How do I look? Did I put on too much sunscreen?”

A saccharine voice to your left reeled you back to reality; looking over at the owner of the voice, an emerald gaze stared right back, her eyes sparkling beneath the searing rays of the sun. Scanning your friend’s face for any white cast from the sunscreen, you shook your head, and smiled, “You look fine, Alisa.” Taking your word for it, she mirrored your smile before placing her sunnies over her eyes. You, and three friends were clad in a rental jet black skin tight wetsuit provided by the surf school, preparing for today’s private beginner lesson.

You weren’t going to lie, the thought of braving the waves made your heart pound from nervousness, and excitement but seeing as you were going to experience this foreign activity with your friends—who also haven’t tried it before—it put you at ease; you just hoped the instructor was could somewhat save you if you happen to fall off the surfboard, and onto the warm waters beneath.

Speaking of the instructor, Hitoka spoke up, a subtle devious smile on her face as she worked her hands on her flaxen strands, deftly tying it up in a low ponytail, “I bet our instructor is hot.” This earned silent chuckles from the rest of you, shaking your heads at the blonde who just shrugged in response. “Laugh at me all you want now but if I’m right, you owe me a free drink at the beach club later.”

Playfully rolling your eyes at her newfound determination, you waved a dismissive hand at your friend, mirroring her smile,

“Sure, whatever helps you—”

“I’m so sorry for the wait, everyone! I’ll be your surfing instructor for today.” A dulcet voice cut your sentence short, it belonged to a tall man clad in a wetsuit—he looked to be around your age. Blinking twice up at him, your eyes raked his physique up, and down before taking in his handsome beauty—cropped raven hair that framed his face, and the sharp gaze of his dark blue eyes were the cherry on top; a blend of an innocent yet sultry appeal. He emanated a subtle intimidating aura, especially paired with his looming height but his voice was as soft as the first rays of the early morning, something you could get used to hearing everyday.

You were already considering buying Hitoka that free drink because god was he fucking hot—the skin tight surf suit did not leave much to one’s imagination with the way it hugged his lean build; dips, and curves of his muscles accentuated by the waterproof fabric. It was beyond shameless to ogle your instructor because you’ve completely missed his name, instead, your eyes were focused on the way his muscular legs shifted as he leaned his weight from one bare foot to another.

Next thing you knew, his sharp gaze was on you, an expectant look on his handsome face. Snapping out of your trance, you hesitantly looked to the side—at your friends—clearly unaware of what was going on, ‘Your name. He’s asking for your name.’ Kiyoko mouthed. Letting out a sound of realisation, you smiled up at the instructor, and introduced yourself, ignoring the sudden warmth that crept up the column of your neck, and to your cheeks.

After brief introductions were out of the way, the five of you headed down to the beach—surfboards securely tucked beneath an arm—to start off today’s lesson. Hitoka fell into a step next to you, hissing at the white scorching sand beneath her bare feet, angling your face over to her, you spoke up, “Hey, what was our instructor’s name again? I didn’t catch it earlier.” She looked at you, that devious smile back in its place, brows furrowed, free hand shielding her sweaty face from the blinding sun, “Why? Too busy ogling his hotness?”

Yes. But you weren’t going to tell her that—god, no, she’d never live it down because she was right.

You mustered your best uninterested expression, however, the corners of your lips were itching to curl upwards at her blatant teasing, clearly hitting the nail on the head. Hitoka briefly returned the same deadpan expression, narrowing her chestnut eyes at you before letting out a sigh of defeat, “Kageyama Tobio. Full name, even.” She snickered before going on to complain about the hot sand, and the equally hot summer weather.

“Kageyama Tobio.” You muttered underneath your breath, satisfied at how it easily rolled off your tongue—little did you know, you were going to be moaning it out like a shameless common whore hours later, as though it was made for your tongue only.

As the group neared the deserted azure waters, the scent of salt grew stronger; the sound of small waves crashing on the shoreline filled your ears as you came to a halt just a few ways from the water. Kageyama started the lesson by skilfully explaining the safety guidelines, surfing etiquette, and basic techniques; you tried your best to listen in on the briefing since this was a crucial part of the lesson but his dulcet voice slowly faded along with distant noises from the background as you stared up at his face.

Your eyes gently traced over every dip, and curve of Kageyama’s features, lips parted in slight awe, completely lost in his serene beauty as the late morning sun casted a warm glow upon his skin. This has never happened before—sure, you’ve stumbled upon other jaw-dropping faces in the past that had your heart skipping a beat or two but this was different, you were shamelessly drawn to him; as though you were a moon affected by gravitational attraction, falling into an orbit around a planet named Kageyama Tobio. Though, you mostly chalked up your absentmindedness to nerves taking root deep beneath your skin, as each minute grew closer to hitting the swells of the vast ocean.

After getting thoroughly briefed through safety measures, and basic techniques—such as paddling, popping up, and maintaining balance—the next part of the lesson was getting into the water. Despite your heart pounding with nervousness, paddling wasn’t too bad, the coolness of the wavy waters calmed your nerves a tad bit—a daring contrast from the scorching sun directly above your head.

Fortunately for you, Kageyama was amazing at his job—even though the group practised on shallow waters with small waves, getting the hang of popping up, and maintaining balance on the board was tricky, and he was there to ensure an easy experience for you. The feeling of Kageyama’s firm grip around the back of your thigh had your heart hammering as he supported your weight, gently guiding you to stand up on the board,

“Good! You’re a natural. Remember to keep your knees bent—that’s it.” His praise went straight to your legs, knees slightly buckling; it absolutely caught you off guard, almost losing balance but luckily, you didn’t let up, and tried your best to navigate through the small wave.

The lesson carried on for another hour—it went smoothly despite unceremoniously falling into the water a couple of times with your friends but this earned you several words of encouragement from your instructor which definitely did not have you pressing your legs together; god, you just hoped Kageyama didn’t notice with the amount of times you’ve done it throughout the span of the lesson—you’d rather willingly drink the salty sea water instead.

It was already late afternoon, and the summer sun was beginning to set; blue skies turned into hues of cotton candy pink, and pastel orange which casted a vibrant warm glow over the beach, as though it was a scene from a movie. The group leisurely walked along the stretch of the beach, heading for the beach club mentioned earlier. The three indulged themselves in a mellow conversation, raving about their newfound surfing skills, your mind, on the other hand, wandered elsewhere.

Gaze locked on the warm sand beneath as moments from the lesson vividly replayed in your head; you could still feel the warmth of Kageyama’s palm against your clothed skin, the way his fingers ever so slightly dug into your body whenever you wobbled a little.

As if the universe somewhat knew the truth of your mind, Hitoka exclaimed, “Hey! Isn’t that our instructor from earlier?” At the mention of him, your head shot up, eyes following the direction of her pointed finger; as your gaze shifted all the way to the sparkling waters, you recognized Kageyama’s familiar physique.

There he was in his own world, propped up on his surfboard, deftly riding the afternoon waves. As expected from a pro surfer, Kageyama’s body moved with such accuracy, and intricateness as though he was the one controlling the water—clad only in black board shorts, he looked absolutely divine beneath the sunset skies, the golden glow of the sun bouncing off his bare torso.

“He was a little too intense for me, if I’m being honest.” Alisa momentarily stared at him before shifting her gaze. “Really? He seemed fine to me. Just a little stiff.” Kiyoko responded, brows subtly furrowed as though she was in deep thought; this earned a hum of agreement from Hitoka before rambling on about how intense Kageyama’s gaze was.

Hm, you must be the odd one out because in your eyes, his personality was warm, albeit, a little awkward, and blunt but despite that, it was manageable—hell, you even enjoyed his praises no matter how flat or awkward his tone was.

The conversation carried over to the beach club located along a tranquil coastline; greeted with a mix of elegance, and topical accents, you scanned the place in awe—wooden cabanas draped with ivory curtains, and outdoor sunbeds lined the white sands which overlooked the still, azure waters. Apart from the ocean itself, the pool was also an option to swim in, offering a mini bar that you had your eyes set on.

Kiyoko, and Alisa decided to explore other amenities of the club whereas Hitoka opted to lounge at a sunbed, wanting to catch a glimpse of the sun setting behind the horizon, and as for you, your feet were already taking you to the mini bar situated by the pool. After that lengthy, exhausting lesson, all you needed right now was a little alcohol to wash down thoughts about a certain surfer that plagued your mind.

Tropical beats spilled from the speakers, creating a lively atmosphere for its patrons to enjoy; luckily, the poolside wasn’t too congested, and you were able to secure a vacant stool. Opting for the farthest corner in the outdoor bar, your eyes thoroughly scanned the miniature, azure pamphlet on the counter which contained a curated list of cocktails, and other beverages to indulge oneself in.

“If you’re having trouble choosing a drink, I highly suggest our signature cocktail ‘Sunset Dreams’! I can turn it into a mocktail if you’re not interested in alcohol.”

Looking up from the menu, and at the owner of the buoyant voice from behind the counter, you were greeted with a radiant smile that reached his eyes as though he was the epitome of sunshine; his spiky, orange hair that mirrored hues of the sky were not easy to miss, standing out against the neutral colours of his clothes—a beige linen button up shirt that had a few buttons loose, paired with ivory shorts.

The man held a metallic cocktail shaker, vigorously shaking it above his shoulder with both hands a few times before pouring its contents into a chilled highball glass, and sliding it over to a customer just a few seats down.

“So! What would it be for you?” He tapped the counter, returning in front of you before slightly leaning forward; he had an expectant look in his doe, chestnut brown eyes—a look which one, including yourself, couldn’t help but adore. You caught a glimpse of a small, golden nametag glimmering against the beige of his shirt—bold, ivory letters read ‘SHOYO’.

You contemplated his suggestion for a moment, “Okay. I think I’ll try the signature cocktail.” This earned a gleeful expression from the bartender, eagerly nodding at your choice of drink, “Good, good! You’re gonna love it! I’m Shoyo, your bartender for the night. If you need anything, just call out my name, and I’ll be there!” He pointed a finger at his name tag before working on the signature cocktail.

Smiling to yourself, you felt at ease being serviced by such a lively individual; Shoyo cheerfully greeted, and bid customers goodbye every now, and then—you subtly watched him do his job though he was part of a live entertainment.

A few minutes later, Shoyo sets a pretty, gradient cocktail before you, “One Sunset Dreams for you. Enjoy! Call me over if there’s anything you need!” Giving the bartender a warm thanks, you admired the beverage, it imitated colours of the sunset—a vibrant hue of red sitting on the base which gradually faded into a light cotton candy pink topped with two cherries on a swizzle stick, and a straw.

You didn’t hesitate to pull your phone out, and quickly snap a few photos to send to the group chat, instantly earning a thread of replies from Hitoka gushing about how amazing it looked. Before you could properly take a sip of your cocktail, Shoyo’s radiant voice filled your ears as he greeted an oncoming customer,

“Heeey, Kageyama! I haven’t seen you all week!”

At the mention of the surfer’s name, your ears unabashedly perk up. Sure, there were probably thousands—if not hundreds—of other Kageyamas out there but you only knew one person with that name, and he happened to be standing just two seats away from where you sat. His raven strands were damp, glistening beneath the golden sunset rays; he donned a plain white tee, and blue boardshorts which had no business making your heart pound like crazy.

The chances of meeting Kageyama here weren’t exactly slim given his job but you didn’t entirely expect to meet him here, let alone make friends with the beach club’s lively bartender—you didn’t make him out to be a person to regularly attend places like this.

As if he sensed your curious gaze, Kageyama looked to the side, navy blue eyes meeting your own. You waved—you fucking waved at him like he was an old friend who was here to meet with you; embarrassment gnawed at your skin, warmth creeping up from the sides neck of your neck, and onto your cheeks, resembling small, sharp kisses.

To your surprise, Kageyama dipped his chin in return before sauntering over to the vacant seat beside yours. “You two know each other?” Shoyo mused, brown eyes shifting between you, and Kageyama. The latter bluntly shook his head before pointing a thumb at you, “Had them for a beginner’s class earlier today.” You nodded at Kageyama’s reply.

“Also, just the usual mocktail for me.” The taller male added, taking a seat next to you, completely catching you off guard—you didn’t expect him to actually sit next to you but hey, maybe this was the universe’s sign to get to know the man better; how? You were about to find out for yourself. Shoyo returned a bright response, saluting at his friend before getting to work.

Despite the lively atmosphere of the poolside with distant chatters, and soft beats playing on the speakers, the air between you, and Kageyama turned awkward pretty quickly. Talk to him. Talk to him. Talk to him, your mind screamed but all you could do at the moment was take a long sip of your cocktail—maybe getting a bit of liquid courage would help you in this dire situation, after all, as they said, a little goes a long way.

Awkwardly clearing your throat, you spoke up, “So . . What made you interested in surfing?” Good. This was a good conversation starter; you mentally gave yourself a pat on the back for quickly coming up with a question before the atmosphere got too silent, and uncomfortable to talk in. Kageyama met your eyes, cool gaze bringing an icy shiver down your spine; his dulcet voice engulfed your ears as he explained about his love for the sport.

Surprisingly, he had a whole lot to say about surfing—not that you were complaining, you listened to every word that slipped past his lips. You keenly watched how his relaxed expression gradually turned into something more passionate the more he talked about his job—eyes gleaming with pure enthusiasm, and the corners of his lips subtly curling upwards, it was adorable.

“Sorry. Did I bore you? I kind of went on a tangent there.” Kageyama sheepishly scratched his nape. “No, not at all! It was interesting to hear about it, really . . I think you’re really cute.”

Oh god.

Oh my fucking god. That wasn’t supposed to slip out.

Now would be a really good time for the ground to swallow you whole. Though, the only thing swallowing you whole was embarrassment, and to make matters worse, Kageyama wordlessly blinked at you with the most blank expression known to man—you were unsure whether it didn’t phase him at all or he just decided to ignore your blatant flirting altogether. Whatever the reason was, you were better off not knowing.

You could practically see the gears turning in his head as soon as the sentence slipped out. Though, in Kageyama’s defence, he didn’t know whether you were flirting with him or plainly just complimenting him—sure, he also found you cute but would it be weird if he said it back, and you just meant yours as a compliment, nothing more?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Kageyama was overthinking this whole conversation a little too much, he needed to give a response before it becomes unbearably awkward—

“Oh—um, thanks . . I think you’re cute too.” He practically mumbled the last part of his sentence but whatever, he wasn’t going to repeat it again, not when his cheeks turned awfully warm, and his heart skipped a beat or two. Kageyama tried his best to break eye contact but god he just couldn’t; he found your eyes beautiful, the way they shone beneath the warm glow of the sunset.

Maybe you were just being extremely delusional but did you hear Kageyama’s words correctly? He thinks you’re cute as well? Nonetheless, it gave you a boost of confidence, an invitation to shoot your shot, and see wherever it takes you. The raven-haired man subtly squirmed in his seat, deep blue eyes boring into your own; a small blanket of pink coating his cheeks

Was it just him or it felt really, really hot today? Even though the sun had dipped into the horizon, Kageyama felt like he was right beneath its scorching rays—all of a sudden his body felt uncomfortably hot, he felt sharp prickles kissing down his neck, and onto his chest. Kageyama had never felt this hot, and bothered under someone’s presence before—not to mention the growing sensation deep in his core. He felt pathetic, really, being all turned on from just a little flirting; if your words affected him this much, Kageyama wondered how he’d act underneath your touch.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Not the appropriate thought to think about right now.

He mentally cursed his mind for wandering to such impure thoughts rather too quickly because clearly it did nothing but further fuel the shameful feeling growing inside him—carnal desire. Oh, this was absolutely embarrassing on his end, it hasn’t even been at least ten minutes in your presence, and yet he’s getting needier by the minute.

Earlier, Kageyama was lucky enough that he was engrossed in the lesson, and therefore wasn’t too distracted by your presence—all he got was a pounding heart whenever he held your clothed body but that was just about it. Plus, Kageyama wasn’t one to muck around during his job since the safety of the class depended on him, he couldn’t afford some petty distraction, even if it meant pushing down his innocent feelings.

Though, Kageyama wondered if the feelings he had right now could be even called innocent.

As the raven-haired male squirmed in his seat once again, you caught a glimpse of the growing hardness between his thighs, the thin fabric of his shorts did so little to hide the tent at the apex of his legs—you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit to squeezing your legs at the sight.

It was barely above a whisper but Kageyama heard it just fine, a faint ‘I can help you with that.’

Maybe it was the alcohol talking but truthfully, you haven’t even finished your glass of cocktail, and it wasn’t even enough to get you tipsy—the next thing you knew, your thoughts swiftly flew out of your mouth before being able to stop yourself.

He gulped, nails digging into his palms at the erotic sight he just envisioned in his mind. Oh, god. Was this really happening right now? Did you just offer to help him with his growing erection? Kageyama’s throat felt dry. Where the fuck was Hinata with the drink he ordered? Why was he taking so long to make it? The whole situation felt surreal—a wet dream—too good to be true; he felt dizzy, and it didn’t stop there when he responded equally quietly.

If Kageyama was being honest, he didn’t hear his own words over the buzzing of his ear, and the thumping of his heart—all he knew was that it must’ve been a damn good response with your eyes widening, and lips curling up into a seductive smile, one that had his cock throbbing beneath his shorts.

It was all a daze from there, the rush of pure desire coursing through his veins, the spinning of his head; Kageyama vaguely remembered Hinata calling out to the both of you, assuming his mocktail was ready for him but he didn’t bat an eye, a mere beverage would simply do nothing to satiate the thirst he harboured—Kageyama needed you, only you could quench this growing ache between his legs.

Kageyama’s feet felt light against the pavement beneath, his flip flops scraping against it with every uncomfortable step taken. Hues of the fading sunset engulfed his mind, pretty pinks, and oranges slowly turned deep blue as you walked back to your accommodation—it was only a five-minute walk but god it felt like an eternity.

Your lips were on his as soon as the door to your room slammed shut, you swore the walls shook from impact but whatever, it was none of your concern. Kageyama’s lean arms caged you as your back hit the soft mattress beneath, fingers digging into the sheets at the dizzying kiss; no one has kissed him with this much drive, and passion before, the way your soft lips eagerly moved against his own, guiding him with each searing kiss.

Soft moans, and grunts slipped from Kageyama’s throat in between kisses, the sheer intensity from it was enough to make him cum untouched right then, and there; he could practically feel his body vibrating with lust—fuck, he couldn’t even think properly with the way your hands caressed his body up, and down, up, and down before sliding them under his ivory shirt, and gently clawing at his bare skin.

Heaven. Absolute heaven.

Kageyama moaned into your mouth at the feeling of your nails scraping his sensitive skin, trails of goosebumps forming beneath your sinful touch. And as he opened his eyes to meet your gaze, tears quickly pooled around them—from what? Kageyama didn’t know. Maybe it was from sexual frustration, maybe it was from the heavenly feeling of your nails, or maybe it was how each blissful emotion hit him like a truck, and took the air out of his lungs.

Momentarily pulling away from the kiss, Kageyama breathed out a string of incoherent words, a look of uncertainty crossing his crimson-painted face. “What—what was that?” You let out soft pants, dropping your head on the pillow beneath as you cupped his warm cheeks,

“I’m—I haven’t done this before . . I’m a virgin.”

You blinked up at him.

There was a slight pause—a heartbeat—as Kageyama’s confession lingered in the thick, warm air of the room; sweat already lined his forehead, raven strands sticking to his skin. “I’m sorry—Are you turned off?” He quickly peeled himself from your body, a rush of faint coolness momentarily engulfing you from his lack of presence. Kageyama sat on his knees, a bashful look painted on his face.

Quickly sitting up to cup his face, you shook your head, “No, no! Not at all . . Did you want us to stop? I don’t mind at all.” Now, it was Kageyama’s turn to vigorously shake his head, “No. I—I want to do it with you.” He breathed out, eyes glazed with pure lust.

You clenched your cunt at his words—just the thought of taking someone’s virginity, let alone Kageyama’s it felt like a whole lot of expectation had been placed on your shoulders but you weren’t backing down now, not at all, you were going to give him the most earth-shattering first time with how much trust he gave you.

“Take off your clothes, and lie on the bed.” As though time was of the essence, Kageyama hastily stripped his top off, shamelessly flinging it somewhere in the room. Your eyes keenly watched as his thumbs dipped beneath the waistband of his raven shorts, slowly dragging it down the length of his long legs ‘til it pooled around his ankles.

Kageyama wordlessly looked up at you, the fabric of his underwear still on him, cock painfully straining against it with a noticeable wet spot. “All of your clothes.” You added. The male’s cheeks warmed before shyly slipping it off, hard cock bouncing against the tufts of raven hair on his stomach, it shamelessly leaked of pre-cum, beads of pearlescent liquid sat prettily on his red tip.

“Good. Now, on the bed.” An icy shiver ran up his spine at the purr of your voice, velvety, and low as you pat the empty space next to you. As Kageyama situated himself on the bed, his bare back flush against the wooden headboard, he watched as you stood at the foot of the bed, hands slowly coming up to strip yourself.

What a tease.

Kageyama watched with eager eyes as each article of clothing slipped off your skin, Adam’s apple bobbing with each noticeable gulp—fuck, you looked divine; his hands ached to pleasure himself, fuck his cock on his fist as he watched you deftly unclasp your bra. Cursing beneath his breath, his gaze traced over your naked chest, eyes circling over your pert nipples, and down the valley of it. He was practically drooling at this point, rosy lips parted in complete awe at your raw beauty.

Oh, how he wanted to touch you so bad, roam his large hands all over your body, and squeeze, and rub at parts he’s never held before. Kageyama’s mind went absolutely wild, he wondered what your moans would sound like under his touch; would you enjoy his fingers on your sensitive clit? Moan his name out into oblivion? Cum on his hand?

You crawled up the mattress, situating yourself between his parted legs, just before his hard cock. Kageyama waited for your next move with a bated breath, toned chest heaving up, and down with anticipation, his hands gripping the ivory sheets beneath.

Deep, blue eyes widened as you curled over yourself, coming face to face with his dick; oh, you just knew that length would absolutely do wonders inside you. Kageyama bit his lip, stiffening underneath your touch as you circled a hand around his cock, languidly dragging it up to his tip to spread pre-cum down his shaft. Kageyama melted like putty at the first stroke, his head unceremoniously resting on the wall behind as pleasure consumed his body at the speed of lightning— he could already feel the building pressure in the pit of his stomach.

“Ah!—Fuck. T-that feels so, so good.” Kageyama moaned to the ceiling, his voice was airy, and light, a clear sign of pure bliss completely taking over his sanity. He’s never been touched by anyone before so this was a foreign experience for him; it felt different from when he pleasured himself with his own hands—your touch drove Kageyama to madness, and he was absolutely addicted to it.

Satisfied with his reaction, you picked up the pace, and brought another hand down to gently massage his balls which earned a loud whine of your name. Oh, fuck. Kageyama was floating on cloud nine, and this was only pleasure from your hands, what more if it was your wet cunt? Would he even last sheathed deep in your velvety walls? He doubted it. 

As the pace picked up, Kageyama’s moans also grew in volume, his stomach clenched, and unclenched at the sheer pleasure that consumed his whole body, all because of your hands. “Fuck! Fuck! Fu��I’m cumming!” The raven-haired male let out a wanton moan, eyes closed shut, knuckles white, and muscles taut as the knot inside his stomach finally snapped. Pure bliss rocked through Kageyama’s body like never before, as though he was engulfed in a million pleasurable kisses.

White, hot ribbons of cum shamelessly spurted from his cock which coated your fingers, and wrist. Kageyama slumped against the headboard, all fucked out, and covered by a light sheen of sweat; his lips were parted as he desperately chased oxygen, 

“Want you—I need you. Please . .” Kageyama panted, his lustful gaze locked onto your own; even though he just orgasmed, his cock was still rock hard. How needy. His breath hitched at the lewd sight before him as you languidly licked a long stripe up your wrist, gathering his cum on the tip of your tongue, and eagerly swallowing his essence down. It was like Kageyama’s brain short circuited—he’s only ever seen this sight on his laptop screen during sleepless nights, never did he think he’d see his own cum licked, and swallowed from one’s hand.

Was it possible to faint from such a sinful sight? 

Sitting up, you inched closer to Kageyama’s lap, thighs on either side of his slim waist, and clothed cunt hovering his cockhead. With keen eyes, the raven-haired watched as you deftly pushed your panties aside, catching a glimpse of your glistening cunt. He licked his lips as though he was a predator silently stalking his prey, waiting to pounce. Kageyama wondered what you’d taste like on his tongue, your sweet slick smeared all over his mouth, and chin—he could only fantasise. 

The violent thrumming of his heart filled his ears as he watched you shift your weight over his lap; this was really happening—Kageyama was about to lose his virginity. He felt a rush of every single emotion from A to Z, all things good but mixed with a bit of nervousness; what if he couldn’t satisfy you enough? What if he accidentally cummed way too soon? What if—

“Ohhhhh—fuck! Ngh—ah!” Kageyama violently threw his head back against the wall, fists gripping the sheets below as you slowly inched down his red tip. Oh god. Oh god. You hugged him so, so tightly, your cunt felt hot, and wet around him but in a good kind of way; he let out short breaths, his chest quickly heaving up, and down as he tried his best to ground himself. It was like his sanity snapped in a split second as soon as you made raw contact with his dick—this feeling was beyond cloud nine, as though he was one with the cosmos. 

You bit your lip at his pornographic sounds, letting out low whimpers as Kageyama’s cock desperately twitched inside you. With your hands gripping his bare shoulders, you slowly inched down his cock, grounding yourself as the head kissed intimate parts of you that no one has ever reached. A unison of heavy pants filled the thick air after bottoming out; you momentarily stilled, giving yourself ample time to get used to Kageyama’s length because fuck it drove you absolutely insane.

“P-please move. Need more, please . .” He whined, desperately moving his hips beneath your weight, causing his tip to momentarily brush against your g-spot ever so slightly. Moaning at the contact, a string of colourful curses slipped past your lips, toes curling at the sudden wave of pleasure.

Without wasting any more time, you lifted your hips all the way up to his tip before slamming back down, earning muttered curses of your name from Kageyama. His hands immediately flew to your hips as a way to ground himself, as though holding onto anything else would immediately deprive him of this heavenly bliss.

Soft, wet squelches bounced off the walls with every languid roll of your hips, Kageyama couldn’t peel his eyes away from where to two of you connected—it was wet, and slippery, glistening from all your arousal; everything felt so sinful that it made his head spin, not the mention the bounce of your breasts with each movement of your hips. Every moan that slipped past your lips went straight to Kageyama’s cock, he was the one making you moan this loud, not to mention the look on your face—hooded eyes, and lips parted to chant his name every now, and then; pride blossomed in his chest.

Shared pleasure ate away at your bodies like a rabid animal, gnawing at your skin with nothing to stop it ‘til it reached your bones—it was immense, a toe-curling sensation with every relentless bounce of your hips; the way Kageyama’s cock repeatedly kissed your g-spot, the way your velvety walls sinfully wrapped around him like it was meant to be. Your thighs burned with exhaustion, a mix of pain, and pleasure completely taking over your body but you didn’t stop—you didn’t want to, not when Kageyama felt this amazing inside you.

You could tell the raven-haired was getting more, and more greedy for pleasure from how his nails painfully dug into your sweaty skin, the subtle upward thrust of his hips to meet your own, taking him even deeper into your wet heat. Heavy balls slapping onto your ass fuelled your desire further, the slight burn of it had you clenching around him.

“Ah!—Kageyama! Ohhhh fuck! You’re so deep . .” He closed his eyes at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, voice as sweet as honey. Kageyama wondered if he could be a little more greedy, “Tobio—ngh! Call me Tobio.” He panted. It took all of his sanity to string the short sentence together, Kageyama couldn’t even hear himself over the loud skin slapping mixed with your endless whines.

Vigorously nodding, you moaned his name, “Tobio! Mhm—You gonna cum for me? Yeah?” It was Kageyama’s turn to nod at your gasped words, eyes momentarily screwing shut at its effect on him.

He wasn’t going to last any longer after just cumming his brains out from your hands a few minutes ago. “Oh, god!—Can I cum inside you? Please? Fuck, I want to stuff you full of my cum—ngh!” Words spilled from Kageyama’s mouth, blabbering out any coherent thought that came to mind. Truthfully, he’s always fantasised cumming inside someone, the feeling of emptying his balls, and shooting his thick load while sheathed deep inside was probably his biggest dirty secret—and he just shamelessly bared it to you.

“Yes—ah! Stuff me full of your cum, Tobio! Want your cum deep inside me, please.”

The desperation in your voice was all it took for Kageyama to snap, his fingers clawed at your hips as he painted your walls white, body stiffening under the immense pressure of pleasure. It didn’t help how your cunt gripped him like a vice, pulling him further, and further down the rabbit hole called bliss. You came with a loud moan of his name, curling over yourself, sweaty forehead resting on Kageyama’s bare chest as you desperately rode out your orgasms.

Both of you stayed still for a moment to catch your breaths, the sticky, uncomfortable feeling of warmth slowly engulfed your bodies as the high wore off. Kageyama didn’t even do much but he was absolutely spent, and drenched in sweat, he could only imagine your state, especially your thighs from all that bouncing.

“A-are you okay? That was—that was amazing . .” Dulcet voice sliced through the thick air, it earned a chuckle from you, you could only return a weak nod at his concern, your body too heavy to even move an inch. Kageyama’s soft breathing slowly pulled your to the borders of sleep but the summer heat against your skin was unbearable,

You mustered every strength to peel yourself off of him, “Shower with me?” Your lips wickedly curled upwards, hands gently caressing Kageyama’s bare chest. What a temptress.

Suddenly, he didn’t feel tired anymore. —

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum !

[softshuji]

Haitani ran doesn't think this is working out.

You've been staying over more often lately and the signs of your departure are still there whenever you do leave. Hairs woven into the fibres of the muted grey pillows, and recently- a toothbrush that's a hot pink next to his in the bathroom. It's not much but it's evident that slowly you're creeping into his life.

Sometimes, on the nights you're not there, he finds himself wishing you were. He resists the urge to call you when he knows you're working early tomorrow and you'll likely be asleep- or if not- just simply not in the mood for company. Which is fine of course, but it doesn't mean the missing you aspect lessens at all.

Tonight is cold. The kind of cold that makes the sheets irritable against his skin, and has him shivering every time he shifts his position, and because his legs are aching from all the walking and running today, he finds himself moving and turning often from one side to the other more often. Sleep seems far away and when he casts a glance through the gap in the curtain, the pale ivory silk of moonlight slices through the sheer fabric.

He wishes you were here, and the realisation hits like a train. Too sudden, too terrifying, too end of the world for him to make any preparations, for him to do anything but accept his fate.

It's not the same with you. You don't ask for much, even when he knows you should, even when he wants you to. He wishes you would, ask more of him, make him give more, make him more all together. He wonders sometimes whether he's the only guy in your life and comes to believe he isn't. Because there is no way a girl like you doesn't receive the kind of attention he has already given you from others too, and the thought has his stomach turning. Does he want to be the only one? What would be do if he was? These are things he asks himself. Could he really give you what you needed?

Rindou - he thinks- has begun to suspect something. He's started to ask more often whether ran is seeing anyone, or whether he's okay when he finds him listless and daydreaming in the way he often does and pretends not to. Ran has always hidden behind the big brother exterior, and it's been a good cover so far- everything chalked up to responsibility and burdens and things he just has to deal with himself. Rindou has always respected that there are things that Ran just can't tell him, Ever protective of his innocence in a way that used to bother him, but doesn't so much as he got older himself.

He finds himself thinking of your syrupy excited smile often. You try not to, and you're always quick to check yourself and reign it in, despite him saying he wishes you wouldn't. You say you don't like how it looks, and that you're worried he's always going to laugh or be put off by you, and he's always pretending he's not hurt at such a statement that somehow feels like a thinly veiled insult or accusation. You don't mean it obviously, he knows this, you have troubles of your own you're desperate not to burden him with, even though he's more than happy- honoured even- to be of service to you. He likes to make you laugh often because of this. He thinks maybe if you smile more you'll be used to seeing it from his point of view. He has work to do, he knows this but he knows in tandem that the payoff is worth it.

Unfortunately however, he's not able to parade you in the way he wishes he could. In his nightmares, he finds a stray bullet in you meant for him or Rindou. He finds you in an alleyway with injuries he can't name let alone fix and he gasps awake alone, sweating in the sheets and anxiously dialing you just to hear you speak, hear your voice, to assuage the pain that comes from knowing it's more a possible reality than a far fetched nightmare.

He's always strangely distant for a few days till it passes, and rindou worries, as he often does, whether ran is ill, whether ran is keeping something from him- a little put out when he considers that the latter might be more true then the former.

But there's only so much hiding and waiting and wondering ran can do. Especially when he considers that maybe one day you might get tired of this secret keeping, this illicit relationship you can never make public and find someone who is more... Suited to you, and less like him.

But until then, he tosses and turns and looks out of the window, wondering if you're looking at the moon just like he is.

Reblogs appreciated

[vivwritescrappythings]

Unfair

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

an au about Joel attending a wedding simply inspired by Pedro's slutty little fit at the SAG awards.

part 2

tw: age gap (late 20s/late 40s), fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, alcohol, she/her pronouns, reader has hair long enough to twist around her finger, Joel is probably poorly written in this, and this whole thing is a little poorly written.

word count: 7.2k

MDNI

masterlist

–

Your mom was smiling as you zipped her into her gown, the chiffon and lace dress gorgeous on her as you fastened the eyelet closed at the top of the bodice. You could feel the lens of the photographer’s camera trained on you both, the woman having been with you the entire morning to document the process of the bridal party getting ready. 

The photographer was fluttering around the room, taking candid photos of you all making small talk and toasting mimosas. The posed photos had been earlier that morning, you all wearing your matching silk robes with your names screen-printed on the back. You didn’t know how much had been spent on the whole production–but it certainly wasn’t cheap. But, to see your mom glowing and her wide smile all morning, every penny must have been more than worth it.

Before you realized, you all wore dresses and bouquets of white flowers with magnificent greenery were being thrust in your hands. The wedding planner was ushering everyone out onto the stone walkway to the barn, women finally meeting men just outside the farmhouse turned wedding venue. The best man looked vaguely familiar to you as you placed your hand in the crook of his elbow to walk down the aisle, he must have been Shawn's eldest brother.

The officiant droned: he just repeated the same platitudes of what it means to love one another and be good spouses. You tried to stay focused, your eyes inevitably wandering. The ceremony space was picturesque: southern live oaks casting shadows in the late autumn sun as they married in front of the barn. It really couldn’t get more Texas than that, especially when you counted the number of cowboy hats in the crowd. 

You could feel someone staring at you for the better part of the ceremony, making you glance out of the corner of your eye as you tried to find the source. Every fiber of you wanted to turn and look in earnest, but you knew that you’d ruin the photos as soon as your body twisted and your happy, grinning face wasn’t facing the bride and groom on the best day of their lives. 

Your grip tightened around the bouquet in your hands as your skin crawled, your focus so jarred that you almost missed your cue to walk out. The cheers and clapping woke you from your reverie before the best man had to. Grasping him by the elbow, you walked back up the aisle between the celebrating wedding guests, the feeling of being watched now fading to the background.

—

When you finally made it to the renovated barn, you were starving and in desperate need of a drink. The photos had run long, the photographers getting you all in a variety of line ups and poses. It was almost time for the plated dinner to begin, guests settling at assigned tables after a cocktail hour and the live band playing quiet music in the corner of the half-inside half-outside space that would eventually serve as the dance floor.

The orange lighting from string lights along the ceiling was soft, mismatched Edison bulbs hanging along zigzagged wires from wooden rafters. It painted the guests and decor in gold tones, making everything look sepia like an old photo.

With your double shot vodka tonic in hand, you found your name written in gold calligraphy on the seating chart. Your mom and her new husband were sitting together at a small table at the front of the room, a faux-neon sign behind them that displayed his last name. Well, their last name now. 

You were at one of the front tables, the ivory table cloth nearly brushing the shiny wooden floor as you plucked your name card off your plate and sat down. There were only a few people you knew at the wedding, neighbors from the neighborhood you grew up in and a handful of your mother’s coworkers. But, they were seated elsewhere. 

Some of the seats on the opposite side of the sprawling white and green centerpiece were occupied with strangers in flamboyant cowboy hats and boots, an obvious sign they were from out of town. You smiled politely as you sat down, taking a long sip of your drink as you checked your phone for the moment of downtime. 

“This seat taken?” A deep, twangy voice made your gaze cut away from the screen and up to the right. You were immediately dumbstruck by how handsome the man was, his umber colored eyes reminding you of the sunlight hitting the tree trunks during the ceremony. A few of his dark brown curls were falling on his tanned forehead, the rest of his hair loosely pushed back. 

You floundered for a moment, lips parting and no words coming out of your mouth. Finally you caught up, blinking a few times. The place card in front of the ornate gold and white place setting next to yours was your saving grace. “Well, uh, if you’re Joel M., the seat is all yours,” you said, looking back up at him.

God, you hoped he was Joel.

He smiled, the lines on his face becoming a bit more defined as he extended a hand toward you. “Joel Miller, nice to meet you…” he trailed off, waiting for your assistance. 

You slipped your hand into his, his calloused palm engulfing yours as he shook it politely. You introduced yourself, neck craned back so you could look him in the eye. He released your hand and sat down, setting the glass he was holding next to yours on the table cloth. 

“So how do you know the couple?” Joel asked you, his gaze dragging over you. You tried not to squirm under the weight of it, your face feeling hot as you set your phone face-down on the table. The way he looked at you made you feel like a bug caught under a microscope.

“The bride is my mom,” you said, fiddling with the elegantly folded cloth napkins for a moment. You glanced at her briefly, watching her giggle at something Shawn had said. 

Joel nodded, a huff of a laugh following. “No shit, so you’re the stepdaughter?” he asked, an eyebrow raised as a smirk lifted the corner of his lip. One of your eyebrows lifted of its own volition, his reaction catching you off guard.

“Do I have a reputation?” A sip of your drink helped wet your dry tongue, your eyes trained on him over the rim of your glass. There was a spike of anxiety in your chest, the temporary fear that he’d heard something bad about you filling your mind. You held your glass in your hand as you crossed your legs at the ankle, waiting for his response.

Joel paused to take a drink, a hand scrubbing over his beard as he looked back at you. He shook his head, waving a hand in a way that was meant to be placating. “Shawn told me about you, said you just moved back to town a few months ago.” 

“Um, yeah, actually. Moved back from Denver,” you said, bashful that the subject of you even came up. You hadn’t realized that you were important enough in Shawn’s life to mention, especially to his friends. Of course, there wasn’t animosity between the two of you, just what you assumed was limited interest. Most men didn't bother to learn too much about their adult stepchildren.

You were both leaning forward as you spoke, the music and chatter of the other guests making the barn a little too loud to hear one another clearly at a distance. He was looking down at his drink, giving you an opportunity to study his profile. Joel was easily twenty years your senior, the dark beard on his jawline threaded through with patches of silver hair. 

“So—“ Joel started, getting cut off by the shuffle of the last people to their seats and an arm thrust between the two of you. The waiters serving the plated dinner made you sit upright in your chair, the soft fabric of your dress fluttering as you put some space between Joel and yourself. 

You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you took the first bite of your food, a sigh escaping you as your eyelashes batted against your cheeks. Conversation floated around your head, you caught polite questions about Joel’s construction business and half-assed replies.

For some reason your mother had put you at a table full of Shawn’s friends, maybe in an attempt to help you get to know him better.

“So you’re a contractor?” you asked after your hunger had been satiated. You’d gotten a refill on your drink from one of the waiters, nursing a fresh vodka tonic as you looked at Joel.

He chewed his steak methodically, nodding as he turned slightly to look at you. “Been building houses for years, my brother, Tommy, works with me,” Joel said after he swallowed, taking his cloth napkin off his wide thigh to wipe the corner of his mouth. 

“Do you like it?” you asked after a moment of contemplation, tilting your head to one side as you looked at him.

There was something about him that kept you smiling, your lips curved like a bow as you sipped your drink from the straw. You studied his features while you could, his aquiline nose and his full lower lip intriguing. Way too intriguing for someone who was your stepfather’s friend.

“Pays the bills, keeps the roof over me and Sarah’s heads.” Joel finished his plate, picking up his drink and leaning back in his seat. 

Sarah? Your eyes dropped to his left hand, not seeing a ring on any of the fingers. Not even a tan line. He noticed it, making your face burn as he chuckled. “Sarah? Your…”

“Daughter,” he cut in helpfully. Daughter, he had a daughter. You exhaled, relieved. But, did he have a wife? No ring, never mentioned her. He would’ve brought her up by now. She would've attended the wedding with him. You chewed the inside of your cheek for a moment, taking a breath as you rationalized.  

Your mouth opened to ask another question when glasses were chimed and dinner was cleared away. Champagne flutes were passed around, and to your horror you realized it was time for your toast. You stood in a fluid motion, adjusting your gown and your hair before heading toward the microphone next to the table with the bride and groom.

–

You spent the rest of the night getting drunk. Champagne became cocktails and cocktails became shots–all with your mother and new stepfather and family and friends from your childhood. Tipsiness made you remove your heels, kicking them off to the side to a forgotten corner as your aching feet pressed against the polished floor. 

The dance floor was cramped, the band having transitioned partway through the night to someone’s phone with a playlist hooked up to the speakers. You watched your mom laugh as she was spun around by her new husband, making you smile as you nursed your glass of wine. 

“You lost something.” Joel approached, pointing to your strappy heels with a lazy finger. 

You grinned, your teeth digging into your lower lip for a moment as you looked up at him. “Looks like you did, too–a few things actually,” you said, nodding toward his shucked suit jacket and tie. The top few buttons of his white shirt were open, revealing just enough of his tanned chest to feel dangerous. He was more disheveled than before, a chilled beer bottle held loosely in his fingers and his cheeks flushed.

Joel chuckled, taking a step closer to you as he took a long drink from his beer. You watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, taking a sip of your red wine in tandem.

There was something about this man that had you all kinds of flustered, a giddy lightness in your chest when he focused his attention on you. “So why aren’t you out there dancing?” Joel asked, his warm eyes surveying the dance floor before returning.

You shook your head, a demure smile and a shrug. “Never was much of a dancer.” The last time you really danced was wasted at a frat party in college, the lights low and the music making the house shake. Far from a respectable barn wedding, and definitely not your mother’s respectable barn wedding. 

“That’s a shame,” Joel smiled at you, pressing just a bit closer, “a pretty girl like you should be out there.” 

You were surprised by the compliment, nearly choking on your wine as your eyebrows lifted. Joel was smirking, his whole body leaning toward yours. You were warm to the touch, your entire face burning under his attentions. It felt like you were in high school again, pining after some older boy that you assumed would never look at you twice–but here he was, looking.

“Do you always flirt with your friend’s stepdaughters?” you asked, hoping to come off as hard to get. Realistically, he already had you in the palm of his hand.

Joel pursed his lips, something mischievous flashing in his dark eyes for a moment. “Just the ones that look like you,” he said, his deep voice low. It was almost too quiet to hear over the music, making you shift forward so you could hear him better.

“Joel.” It would've been chastising if it wasn’t for your bright smile. He exuded an easy confidence that was magnetic, it had your nerves on fire as you selfishly hoped that he would do more than just flirt with you. Your gaze was on his lips for a moment, taking in the lines of his full bottom lip and tidy mustache before meeting his eyes again.

“The couple is getting ready to leave!” You both looked toward the door and watched the wedding planner usher guests out the barn doors. Sparklers were thrust in everyone’s hands, the photographer already positioned at the end of the walkway near the rented white Rolls Royce.

Joel’s hand found the small of your back, warm through the thin fabric of your dress as he guided you toward the door. The wedding planner handed him two sparklers, the long kind that wobbled under their own weight. 

The guests had divided into two lines, waiters lighting sparklers on either side of the column created. Joel handed you one as you stood at his side, your bare feet on the warm concrete. You held it out from your body, focused on the bright sizzle of the sparks as they made their way down the lines of powder.

Your mother and Shawn walked through the column of sparklers on cue, laughing and smiling while holding hands. They looked so happy. You could hardly imagine being that happy with someone.

She broke off for a moment to embrace you, making Joel thoughtfully pluck the sparkler out of your fingers so you didn’t burn her. 

Tears pushed at your eyelids, overwhelming joy for your mother finally breaking free of your chest. You whispered ‘I love you’s into one another’s ears and pressed kisses to cheeks as you clung to each other. The photographer’s camera was shuttering nearby, catching every intimate moment.

Finally you let her go, tearful and smiling as Shawn pulled her toward the car that would take them to their hotel. Joel’s large hand found the curve of your waist, bringing you to his side as you watched your mother get into the car. 

You were tipsy enough to allow it.

He was warm, smelling like cigar smoke and whiskey and cologne. You both were quiet as you watched the car pull away, your shoulders fitting in the space between his arm and torso.

“You wanna help me find my jacket? Think I left it around back when I was smoking a cigar with Shawn,” Joel murmured into your hair. His fingers pressed into your waist, his breath on your neck.

It was enough to distract you. You blinked your tears away, fingertips brushing at the corners of your eyes to make sure your makeup was still intact. “Sure,” you whispered, looking up at him after you’d composed yourself.

Your heart skipped a beat when Joel took your hand, tugging you along with him down the path on the outside of the barn. Both of you were tipsy, giggling and stumbling a bit over the paving stones that had been set in the tall grass. The lights faded behind you, the dim glow through the high windows of the barn and the solitary strand of Edison bulbs between the trees just enough to navigate by. 

It all happened so fast, you didn’t even know who initiated it. Joel’s calloused hands were cupping your cheeks and jaw, tilting your head up as your lips met his. He tasted like whiskey and the sweet wedding cake, making you sigh into the kiss as your fingers twisted in his shirt and pulled him close. 

You had to stand on your tip toes to kiss him properly, a few soft laughs escaping the both of you when the hard cartilage of your noses bumped and teeth clashed. 

He took steps forward until your shoulder blades pressed against the side of the barn. Joel crowded you in, one hand leaving your cheek to brace against the wood behind your waist as he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip. You could feel him smiling.

You always found French kissing to be weird, never knowing quite what to do with your tongue. Whenever a guy had initiated it you managed to cut it off quickly, moving on to some other method of making out to spare yourself the embarrassment of letting your tongue sit there like a dead fish.

Of course you’d seen people do it, always seeming like a lot more licking each other than kissing. Nevertheless, the second time Joel ran his tongue along the seam of your lips you found yourself parting them for him.

Suddenly, you understood. Joel’s tongue massaged over yours as he groaned softly. You wanted him to consume you, letting him take control as he explored your mouth. He tilted your head back more, leaning over you with his full height. You flicked your tongue along his, spine arching toward him in an attempt to get closer.

The horn of the hotel shuttle startled you as you broke apart, chests heaving and your lipstick smeared onto Joel’s mouth. 

“You staying at the same hotel as everyone else?” Joel asked, nosing at your hairline as his hands roamed over your dress. He bunched it in his fists, raising the hem above your calves and wrinkling the fabric.

“I am,” you breathed, twisting your fingers in his thick curls. 

Joel smiled against your earlobe, nipping at it. “Wanna continue this in my room? Got a king size bed and everything,” he drawled, pulling back to look down at you. There was a sparkle in his eyes, his smile was breathtaking.

You wiped your lipstick off his bottom lip with your thumb, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “You sure?” you asked, folding your arms over your chest in a form of protection from Joel’s possible rejection. 

He offered, but there was still a part of you that was worried.

He furrowed his brow, a smile still on his face as he looked down at you in the dark. “'Course I’m sure. Go get your shoes, baby, and I’ll see you on the shuttle.” Joel spun you toward the nearest door to the barn, lightly smacking your ass go get you moving.

You yelped, swatting at his hand with a glare. 

“Go on, before I ruin that pretty dress of yours in the dirt out here,” he told you, a smirk on his face as he nodded his chin toward the door. You rolled your eyes, acquiescing to his instructions.

—

It took Joel no time to get you down the hall from the packed elevator and to his room. He clumsily tapped his keycard against the sensor, stamping kisses along the side of your neck as you giggled in the cage of his arms.

Finally he got it to unlock, tightening an arm around your waist as he pushed the door open. Joel took wide, staggered steps on either side of your body as he ushered you inside. 

As soon as the door snapped shut he was already lifting the bottom of your dress, kisses turning into bites on the curve of your neck. “Jo-el,” you whined through giggles as you grabbed the forearm he’d locked around your waist. 

“Unfair that you’re this fucking pretty,” he mumbled, making your face heat up as you tried to protest. Joel shushed you by grabbing a handful of the meat of your thigh, groaning in your ear. 

“How’s it unfair?” you managed to ask, your head spinning from the overwhelming presence of Joel. His rough, calloused hands were groping at your soft flesh, his lips sucking marks on your neck like you were teenagers. 

The room was relatively untouched, his open suitcase on the stand near the large windows on the far side of the room. The curtains were slightly open, moonlight filtering in. “S’unfair that I didn’t meet you sooner,” Joel said, scraping his blunt teeth over the sensitive spot just under your earlobe. You shivered in his arms.

He separated from you just enough to shuck his suit jacket that he had haphazardly put on for the shuttle, tossing it on the little sofa in the room. You turned after stepping out of your heels, linking your hands behind Joel’s neck and pulling him in for another kiss. 

Joel smiled into it, his hands grabbing your waist and holding you flush against his body. “You still wanna do this?” His fingers moved to your spine and played with the zipper on the back of your dress, looking down at you as he waited for your answer. "Don't want you to feel pressured or anything."

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be,” you murmured, carding your fingers in his thick curls.

Joel just groaned, pressing you flush against him as he captured you in another needy kiss. He pulled the zipper of your dress down in one fluid motion, making a shiver prickle up the length of your spine.

“Let me see ya, baby,” he said against your mouth, pulling the thick straps of your dress down your arms. 

You let the fabric pool at your feet, your sheer, skin-colored bra and panties leaving little to the imagination. A wave of insecurity flashed over you, your skin suddenly feeling stretched too tight over your body as your face and neck heated up. 

You were too aware of the parts of yourself that you didn’t like: the dimpled flesh on the outside of your thighs and the hairs you hadn’t plucked away because the wedding was the last place you thought you’d find a one night stand. A wobbly smile formed, your instinct making you bury your face in Joel’s neck to hide.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear his praise. His massive hands ran down your sides, thumbing at the mesh of your bra and panties before he started moving you backwards.

Your calves hit the bed, making you squawk in an unflattering way as Joel lowered you to the mattress. “You’re so gorgeous,” he breathed, his lips trailing down your neck until he was kissing and sucking at your sternum. He nudged your knees apart with his free hand, his other forearm planted on the mattress to hold his weight off of you. He slotted himself in the space between your thighs as his tongue laved over your nipple through the mesh fabric of your bra.

The noise that came out of your throat was embarrassing. Your breath turned into a strangled moan, eyebrows pinching together. The sensation only made your arousal increase tenfold, spine already arching to press your tit against his mouth. 

Joel chuckled, soft brown eyes ticking up to look at your face. “That sensitive?” he said, more of a statement than a question. You found yourself nodding anyway. He thumbed at your other nipple, making it bud against the thin fabric and pulling another whine from your throat. He snickered.

“Don’t tease,” you huffed, wiggling your hips and lightly squeezing his sides with your knees. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” Joel muttered, a smile stretching on his lips as he rolled the pad of his thumb over your nipple again. He placed kisses along your stomach, making you suck in the soft flesh on reflex. His coarse facial hair tickled your skin, making you giggle a bit as he continued to work his way down your form.

“Just wanna taste ya, okay?” Joel asked, his broad shoulders between your spread thighs. His thick fingers hooked into your panties, manipulating your legs so he could pull them off and toss them somewhere in the room. He pressed your legs apart before you could snap them shut, a seed of worry taking root in your mind as you looked down at him.

You’d never been so self-conscious during a hook-up before, but for some reason Joel felt different. Your thoughts were preoccupied on how you looked from his vantage point, if you smelled alright and if anything looked weird.

“Been wanting to taste you all night, ever since I saw you standing up there during that damn ceremony.”

He spread you apart with his thumbs, eyes focused on your already wet pussy as a smirk stretched across his features. He just stared, making you want to crawl back into yourself. Then the feeling of his tongue on your clit makes you forget your worries, your face scrunching as you moaned. Joel hooked your leg over his shoulder, your heel pressing against his back as he pushed your thighs even further apart. 

You couldn’t remember a time when you’d been so soaked before, sticky arousal practically gushing out of you. Joel’s wide tongue licked long stripes up your cunt, careful to practically gulp down everything that he could. He was groaning as he ate you out, his big hands digging into your waist to pull you closer. The coarse hair of his beard was rough against the soft skin of your inner thighs 

“Oh–oh god, Joel,” you sighed, propping yourself up on an elbow so you could look at him. 

Your thighs were quaking, pressing against his ears as your hips twitched. Joel’s dark eyes were hazy and half lidded as he lapped over your clit, working with a focus you’d never experienced with any other man. He looked beautiful between your legs, belly-down on the mattress and still dressed in his button down shirt and slacks. 

One of his hands left your hip, snaking up your stomach to reach blindly until he cupped your breast. He pulled at the cup of your bra, revealing your peaked nipple. The bud was immediately pinched between his thumb and forefinger, making you arch your back as you let out another whine of his name.

Joel dipped down to shove his searing tongue inside of you as his nose bumped into the swollen bead of your clit. A bolt of lightning ricocheted up your spine, a gasp leaving you. It felt so good you could almost cry, your chest heaving and hips clumsily grinding toward his mouth. You were already starting to tremble, pleasure sparking in the pit of your stomach as he mouthed at you. 

And then he pulled back.

“Joel!” you yelped, starting to sit up as your gaze hardened into a glare. Your pussy clenched around nothing, neglected and empty with an interrupted orgasm.

He huffed a laugh, looking down at you as he knelt on the bed in front of you. “You’re right, baby, that’s my name,” he teased, his voice deep and smokey. 

He grabbed you roughly by the hips, pulling so you fell to your back again. “You fucker–” Joel cut you off by pressing the backs of your knees until you were bent in half, a brief show of just how strong he was. His calloused hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, readjusting you again so the small of your back was propped up against his quads. You’d never been in this angle before, your pussy the highest point of your body as he pushed his forearms against your thighs to keep you still.

Joel’s hot breath washed over your cunt before he delved back into it, greedy as he started sucking on your clit. With the way you were contorted, you were completely helpless, any attempt to move your hips just made your thighs push uselessly against his arms. You were soaking, your arousal dripping down to your asshole as you whimpered pathetically.

He went at a leisurely pace, taking his time to tongue at you and lick long stripes from your perineum to your clit. Your hands were clenching in the white comforter on the hotel bed, your chest heaving. There was something about being completely at his mercy that made your head spin.

You wanted to be greedy, take everything he would give you; but, Joel was in no rush, languidly pressing his face into your pussy despite your best efforts to get him to speed up. 

It was overwhelming in all the right ways, your head spinning as you watched Joel lick at you like he wanted to consume every part of you. Joel cupped your breast in a hand, strumming his thumb lightly over your nipple to keep it stimulated as you gasped. 

You were delirious by the time he sunk two fingers into you, almost making you scream. Joel took a few breaths, his pink lips swollen and shiny with your arousal as he studied your expression. You could hardly think straight, strings of curses mixed with his name falling from your lips as you panted like a bitch in heat. 

The squelching sound of his fingers lazily pumping into your pussy filled the hotel room, loud enough to make your cheeks burn. You wetted your lips, trying to catch your breath beneath Joel.

“So fucking tight around my fingers,” Joel mumbled, the words muffled and wet because he didn’t pull away. It didn’t even feel like he was talking to you, communing with your pussy instead. The praise went directly to your head, making you tighten around his fingers. You threaded a hand in his hair, keeping his mouth pressed against you. “Tastes just as good as I expected.”

“Oh… oh my god,” you breathed, your climax building toward its precipice. 

Joel wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, just barely speeding up the rhythm of his fingers fucking into you. His thumb on your nipple followed suit, matching the motion as tears filled your eyes. Your fingers threaded into his curls, your brows furrowed as you pulled on his hair. He grunted against you, not letting up as he worked you up toward the edge. 

When you came it was a whole body event. Your legs trembled, hips burning from the awkward angle Joel had bent you into. Your back arched, breath pausing in your chest. Your cunt clenched around his fingers, sucked tight and feeling every inch of them inside you. The pleasure was white-hot as it coursed through you, leaving your nerves buzzing and your ears ringing as your body went limp.

“So pretty when you come,” Joel said, his thick fingers still deep inside you.

You were almost nonverbal, your response a delirious sob as you looked up at Joel with watery eyes. He caressed your cheek, gently stroking your jaw and thumb wiping over your lower lip. You kissed the pad of it out of reflex, the motion making his expression soften for a moment.

Then he started to massage the spongy spot inside of your dripping pussy, making your eyes roll back. “Too sensitive,” you whined, grabbing onto his forearm in a weak attempt to stop him. 

“Trust me, baby, I’ve got you,” he said in that syrupy tone, gaze still locked on your face as you squirmed. He took his hand away from your cheek, holding one of your legs to keep you still as he fucked his fingers into you. “You can do one more for me, right?”

The need to please him made you nod, taking in a deep and shaky breath. You couldn’t do anything but take it, your mouth dropping open and your back arching. The overstimulation made you tremble, your whole body squirming. Breaths kept huffing out of you, your brows pinched tight as you tried to relax. It was hard to think straight, hell, it was hard to even breathe. 

Joel pulled his fingers out of you for a moment to strum over your swollen clit, only touching you with just enough pressure to drive you crazy. He continued until you were straining against him, moaning and sobbing his name. It was like he was carved from stone, hardly giving you any leeway as he kept you in place. The pressure in you built faster this time, it was almost embarrassing how quick he was able to get you to the edge. 

“Joel, Joel, Joel–ohmygod,” you gasped, reaching for purchase against his thigh. His dress pants were soft under your fingers as you squeezed, your body practically vibrating. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmured soothingly, pressing a wet kiss to the back of your thigh as his fingers hooked back into you. 

Joel fucked you on them at a ruthless pace as his thumb rolled over the crest of your sex, your mouth opening in a wordless cry as you fell into your second orgasm of the night. You were completely lost, your eyes squeezed shut as your muscles spasmed against the restraint of Joel’s arms. White noise filled your mind, your body melting against Joel’s thighs and the bed as your legs fell open even further. 

He rubbed along the seam of your cunt soothingly, calloused fingers working you through the aftershocks. Your eyes were completely hazed when you looked up at him, splayed on the bed like every bone had been pulled from your body. He looked positively giddy, his wet fingers smearing on your thigh as he rubbed your legs in an effort to help you come back to yourself.

Joel let you off of him, returning your spine to the mattress as he leaned over you to give you a kiss. You hummed into it, smelling and tasting your salty-sweet slick on his lips and facial hair. “Please fuck me,” you begged between presses of his mouth, desperation easy to hear in your tone.

“‘Course I will, baby,” he said, getting off the bed to quickly undress himself. You shakily sat up, unclipping your bra at your back and tossing it aside. 

Joel was impressive, his body rippled with muscles beneath a layer of fat that told you he was eating well. Your gaze dragged down him, mouth watering as you finally saw his cock. It was big, the same tanned tone of his skin with a flushed tip. It jutted from a patch of trimmed, dark hair that was accentuated by the happy trail beneath his navel. You swallowed thickly, pussy clenching at the thought of him fucking you into the mattress.

You kissed him eagerly as he got back on the bed, part of you so desperate to please him. Joel was older than you, so much more experienced, you just wanted him to like you. 

He grunted, curling a hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. His other hand traveled down your body, massaging your hip with his thumb. You were putty in his hands, your own arms in a loop around his neck.

“Lay down,” Joel mumbled against the hinge of your jaw, nipping at the bone. You whimpered, fingers digging into the broad muscle of his shoulders as you complied. Joel ran a hand over you, sliding it down the valley between your breasts and over your soft stomach. 

The backs of your thighs were pressed against his quads as he took himself in his hand, sliding the blunt head of his cock along your pussy. You clenched around nothing, desperate and wanting. “Joel, please.” 

You couldn’t take waiting anymore.

He smirked, notching himself at your entrance and obliging you. Joel pressed and pressed and pressed until his hips were completely snug against yours. He split you in half across the width of his cock, moving slow to give you some time to adjust. It felt like he’d consumed all of the extra space in your body, you even felt him in your throat. 

You breathed brokenly, back arched and hips twitching as you struggled to find a comfortable position. You weren’t a virgin–weren’t anything close to it, really–but it felt just as overwhelming as your first time.

Joel bent over you, his elbows on either side of your head carrying his weight as he ground his hips against yours. His forehead pressed into your shoulder, a heated groan rumbling from his chest. It was hard to make sense of things, rattled breaths filling your chest as your mind whirred uselessly. He peppered kisses over your face, his lips wet and warm as he showered you in affection.

Then he moved his hips, the roll of them slow and syrupy and making you nearly choke. You grabbed at his biceps, an attempt to anchor yourself to him as he started to rut his hips into yours. He made room for himself with every press of his cock, molding you to the shape of him.

Joel collected your leg with a rough hand, pushing your knee toward your chest. He let it come to rest in the curve of his elbow, palm pressed flat to the comforter as he spread you open wider. Your hips protested as he splayed you apart, the discomfort easily taking a backseat to your pleasure.

You keened, mouth falling open as he sank even deeper inside of you. Your breaths came out in little mewls, matching Joel’s grunts as you met each thrust with a weak roll of your hips. His lips were at your throat, sucking more marks into the skin and his facial hair scratching against you. “Goddamn, you’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” Joel groaned into the curve of your neck, still keeping an even rhythm

You let out a breathy laugh–you felt the same way about him. He lifted himself to get a better look at you, dark brown eyes as warm as the summer sun as his gaze drifted all the way down to where his cock was buried in you. He grunted at the sight, pupils dilating like drops of ink in water.

His free hand lifted off its elbow, his weight shifting to one side so he could wet the pad of his thumb with a lick of his tongue. You were making sounds you couldn’t control, each thrust pushing a small gasp from your throat. Then, Joel dropped his hand to your lower abdomen, gently tracing the curve of your belly down into the soft thatch of hair you hadn’t bothered to shave.

A calloused thumb found your clit, swirling over it with a confident pressure in a way that made your eyes nearly roll back in your skull. Joel was pounding into the spot that made you see stars, merciless in his pace. “Joel… oh god…”

You could feel the flutter of your orgasm starting, your legs trembled against his arm and the curve of his waist. You chanted his name like a prayer, overstimulated tears starting to squeeze out of the corners of your eyes and roll into your hairline. He just soldiered on, grinding his thumb over your clit as he worked you higher and higher toward the edge.

A rattling gasp escaped your throat as you pulsed around Joel, your brows pinching and your body stiffening beneath his. You could feel the release from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head, your nails digging into his thick biceps as the flickering pleasure turned into a full on forest fire. You leaned up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down onto the mattress with you as you held him close.

“Fuck,” Joel moaned into your neck. His thrusts became sloppy fast, his discipline gone to the wayside now that he made you come on his cock. You felt him twitch inside you, his breath coming out in hot huffs against the curve of your shoulder. His hand grabbed your hip, pulling you down to match his frantic thrusts as he moaned your name into your skin.

You wanted to pull his head away from you so you could see how his face looked when he finished. The muscles in his abdomen clenched, his hips grinding tight to yours as he came inside of you. You moaned with him, the feeling of being filled up by him satiating a need you didn’t know you had as you dragged your blunt nails on his scalp.

Joel finally collapsed, the weight of his body pressing down on you as you combed your fingers through his hair. His hips were cradled by your legs, sweat slicking your skin wherever it was pressed together. You breathed against one another, pulling each other close as you basked in the afterglow.

You were sharing the same air, pressing loose kisses to each other's warm skin as you melted into each other for an unknown amount of time. It could have been seconds, it could have been hours.

“We should clean up,” you finally breathed, able to come back to yourself. 

Joel nodded against your neck, you felt it more than you saw it. You giggled after he didn’t move, still leaving you helpless and pinned beneath him. He seemed to make himself even more comfortable, arms constricting around you and face nuzzling closer to your throat.

“Joel,” you chastised, lightly shoving at his shoulder. It was half-hearted and meaningless–you were more than content to stay here all night if you had to.

“I like how you say that, Joel,” he said, mimicking your voice in an annoyingly high-pitched tone. It made you laugh, throwing your head back against the comforter as you shook it. 

He hissed, pulling away from you just enough to prop himself up on an elbow. “You clench around me like a fucking vise when you laugh like that, baby,” Joel muttered, swirling his fingertips over your skin. He didn’t move to pull out of you quite yet, the two of you relishing in the intimacy of your embrace.

A slow smirk crossed his face, his dark eyes flickering back up to meet yours. “Plus, what’s the point of cleaning up if I’m not done with you yet?”

–

Needless to say, you were sneaking out of his room when the dregs of sunlight started streaming through the hotel room windows, sore and exhausted, with his phone number typed into your phone and his hickeys all over your skin.

[outofconcheol]

bloodline (JWW x F!Reader) - Teaser

pairing: vampire professor!wonwoo x TA!reader

genres/aus/rating: romance, angst, smut, fantasy au, 18+

summary: Cursed to a solitary existence, Wonwoo seeks a cure for his condition - enlisting the help of his diligent teacher's assistant. However, you refuse to let Professor Jeon go through with the cure without first teaching him the wonders of having something worth living for. When your tired souls find solace in your shared loneliness, friendship (and something more) blooms. But what happens when that isn’t enough? When the secrets that both you and Wonwoo have been harboring finally catch up to you? Will you and Wonwoo make the most of every moment, or will the aftermath of his quest leave you both even lonelier than before?

warnings (to be updated with final fic): tw: this fic deals with Wonwoo being tired of his vampirism and essentially wanting to end his life as a vampire (whatever that may entail - stay tuned), mentions blood, Wonwoo has dark and depressing thoughts, that's all for now but just know we are in for a ride :)

word count: 619 for the teaser, TBD for final fic

a/n: I've been thinking about this for a long time, and with me wanting to write more for SVT, I decided it was finally time to take the plunge! Please note that this is going to be an angsty journey, with lots of inspiration from pieces such as Thirst (2009), Only Lovers Left Alive (2013), and the Vampire Tapestry by Suzie McKee Charnas. As always, if these themes are not for you, please take care of yourself (your wellbeing comes first always). Also, thank you to the lovely sèvn (@aaagustd/@xscoupsx) for the banner. I hope you enjoy!

The bust sits in the corner of the office, nestled away in an alcove by the window. On sunnier days, when the light would hit it, the marble would reflect brilliantly, its ivory tones taking the appearance of an angel, a silent guardian watching over Wonwoo while he worked. Most of the time, it loomed in the shadows, its unsettling presence doing nothing more than to serve as a reminder that despite his physical appearance, Wonwoo was closer to the cold, unfeeling marble than he was to any of the human peers he’d encountered through the centuries.

Wonwoo can’t recall when in his travels he’d come across the statue, eight hundred years blurring together into a muddle, countless memories fading into oblivion, delicate threads disappearing in the intricate fabric of his mind. Maybe at one point it’d been a gift from a dear friend, or maybe even a lover, but Wonwoo simply couldn’t remember any of it at all. A lifetime of indulgence and hedonism meant that seeking pleasure had long lost its charm.

What more was there to study when Wonwoo had studied it all? From stepping into battle during the middle ages, joining the height of enlightenment during the Renaissance, and witnessing the advent of modern technology in the past century or so, Wonwoo had lingered in the background, slipping easily into the folds of human society. And it all lead him here, to this room that felt more like a box than an office, sifting through countless essays from a batch of college students who were as disinterested in learning about anthropology as Wonwoo had become with his own life.

Even now, he casts his gaze over to his faint reflection in the window, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, lean and lonely-looking. To the untrained eye, professor Jeon Wonwoo was the picture of innocence, milking the image of a solitary bachelor devoted to pursuing a lifetime of knowledge, much to the chagrin of many of his pupils. But Wonwoo saw what no one else did - the faint tinge of red in his eyes, a sign that he’d gone hungry for too long, the needle-like barb under his tongue that had known the taste of blood too many times. All signs of the monster that layed within. 

The efforts of concealing his true nature had finally caught up to him - the mask that he’d put on, feigning interest in human art, science, and culture finally slipping from his face. Simply put, Wonwoo was tired - restless from years of fighting the hunger, pretending that he cared for this life he’d crafted for himself. In reality, it was all a farce. Wonwoo had given up human blood long ago, but feasting on animals wasn’t enough to quell the burning inside him. 

In the end, he craved. Wonwoo was a thief, because he craved the one thing that was a lifesource for humans - their anima, their joie de vivre. He craved it because he didn’t have one of his own, nothing that drove him, that fueled him to keep going. Humans felt things - they felt happiness, sadness, anger and love. Emotions were so intertwined into the mesh of their lives that they craved any experiences that would give them more - from weddings and parties for families and friends, to random hook-ups, to even the thrill of dangerous situations. 

He’d read the essays his students had written - some of them talking about how humanity loved the society they’d crafted so much, that science was constantly coming up with new ways to prolong life, to keep on living. And yet, it didn’t move him. Wonwoo was tired of living just to live. Which is why he’d chosen to die.

a/n pt. 2: if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! I work a pretty busy job, so I'm not sure when the anticipated release date, will be, but I'm going to try to work on this as much as I can. As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

[nyctoaerah]

𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

“𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘”

╰┈➤𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: Where Suguru Geto ends up becoming enamored with Gojo’s Non-sorcerer sister to the point of obsession.

╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Abuse, Mentions Of whipping.

╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Suguru Geto x Fem! Gojo’s Sister! Non-sorcerer! Reader ╰┈➤𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

╰┈➤𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

•───夏油傑───•

THE GENTLE RAYS of the sun filtered through the wide-open windows of the room of the strongest sorcerer; Gojo Satoru. 

[Name], Gojo’s sister, felt the gentle kiss of the sun beams against her soft and [S/c] complexion as she gazed on the window. The sunlight illuminated the sky, casting its vibrant glow all around, while the cheerful melodies of chirping birds echoed in the distance.

Mornings in Japan held a serene and tranquil atmosphere, a fact that [Name] would have readily acknowledged and embraced without any hesitation, if it weren’t for her asshole of a family.

[Name] felt her jaw tighten and her [E/c] eyes narrowed at the mere memory of her stupid family before she blinked suddenly when she saw a butterfly land on satoru’s windowpane.

As she observed the butterfly alight on Satoru’s window, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. This particular butterfly appeared unusually large compared to the typical ones she had seen before that would mostly be on their garden.  its wings displayed a gradient of ebony and ivory hues.

The upper part of its wings exhibited a deep, velvety black, while the lower section faded into a lighter, softer shade. her lips slightly parted as a hint of yellow pigment started to spread across the previously pristine white patches on the butterfly's wings and the butterfly abruptly fluttered away, although she could have sworn that she perceived a peculiar trickle of yellow, as if the fragile creature had bled before her very eyes.

From what she had read, insects blood were mostly clear colored, yellowish, or greenish. So perhaps, the butterfly had bled and she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps that was a sign.

‘That’s weird’, she thought.

“What was that?” [Name] inquired with astonishment, turning to face Satoru, seeking an explanation for the enigmatic occurrence. 

“Hemolymph,” Satoru responded nonchalantly, causing her to tilt her head inquisitively. 

“What the hell is a hemelonymp?” she inquired, her words a bit slurred , unable to pronounce the word properly, and her curiosity piqued by this unfamiliar term. 

 “It’s Hemolymph.”

Satoru corrected.

“Hemonymph?”

“No. Hemolymph.”

“Hemolymph is a fluid that serves as an equivalent to blood,” Satoru elucidated, succinctly summarizing the essence of hemolymph, but leaving her with a desire to comprehend its intricacies.

“That butterfly actually reminds me of you, to be  honest.”

Satoru attentively tended to the small droplets of blood that had emerged from the slit on her lip, which was now swollen and adorned with painful bruises. He dabbed a soft tissue against the injured area, gently blotting away the traces of crimson liquid, leaving no remnant behind.

“All better now?” His voice was as gentle as the breeze brushing past the leaves, and when his fingers swept against her cheeks, it was with the softness of a feather. She nodded, unable to speak, her exhaustion weighing down on her like a lead balloon. 

“I suppose,” she mumbled, unsure of how to proceed. She search for the right words, hesitating for a moment before allowing het eyes to flit over to the liquid on satoru's windowpane before clearing her throat.

“But about your previous statement,” she began, 

Satoru tilts his head ever so curiously, waiting for her answer.

“Yes?” He replied.

Is it because the butterfly was bleeding, just like me?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to steady herself, refusing to shift until Satoru had finished wiping the blood from her lip.

Upon completing his task, Satoru rose from his kneeling position and disposed of the stained tissue.

“Is it because it bled, like me?” she repeated, the words soft and introspective, her gaze drifting upward to the ceiling as she inhaled sharply.

Satoru nodded, acknowledging her observation.

“Mhm. Partially, yes, but, you're pretty just like that insect.” he replied,

She couldn't help but let out a small, resigned sigh. Of course, Satoru would see beauty in her; she was his precious sister after all. Yet deep down, she knew that his perception of her stood in stark contrast to the world’s view, On satoru’s eyes, she was the epitome of beauty, but on other people’s eyes? Not even close.

He was ethereal, an angel, a being so close to being a data, while she’s a mere shadow in his radiant presence.

It made her lips purse and satoru noticed.

Jealousy had bubbled in her again, she noted.

“Is something troubling you?” Satoru's voice broke through your reverie. She shook her head, a faint smile gracing her lips as she pushed aside the swarm of negative thoughts threatening to engulf her.

“No, just thinking ‘bout how lucky i am to have you.” she whispered.

Satoru blinked as he didn’t heard her words. “What was that?” his voice held a note of curiosity.

“Don’t worry about it, S’ nothing,” she replied softly, a gentle hum escaping her lips.

“But enough of that, and to your previous statement...”

“Is it because the butterfly was bleeding, just like me?” She asked once satoru is finished and her eyes followed Satoru as he disposed of the tissue stained with her blood.

Satoru nodded, acknowledging her observation. “Partially, yes, but like, you’re pretty just like that insect.” he replied, 

Her gaze averted as she responded solemnly while shaking her head.

“I ain’t like that butterfly though, i mean, i don’t have freedom.”

Expressing her deep frustration, she acknowledged the various constraints that were hindering her progress. Letting out a sigh filled with exasperation, she placed her hand gently on her forehead, as if trying to alleviate the weight of her burdens. In the midst of her contemplation, she found herself questioning whether her circumstances would be different if she possessed the six eyes and limitless, just like her brother.

“Right,” satoru mumbles bitterly.

“Hey, ‘toru.. maybe if i’m not a non-sorcerer and i possess the six eyes and limitless like you, would they grant me freedom?.. and maybe... even love me?” [Name] inquired, observing how Satoru seemed to receive favoritism from their family.

“would they finally see me? Accept me? Love me? Give me freedom?”

her words hung heavy in the air as she observed the favoritism Satoru received from your family.

Satoru’s response was nonchalant, almost indifferent, as if the concept of love was foreign to him.

“They don't love me,” he stated matter-of-factly, his tone devoid of emotion.

“Besides, Why would you want their love when they're nothing but assholes?”  

Satoru’s question sliced through the air, his hand gently cupping her cheek in a gesture that felt more like a stress-induced grip than a tender caress. Annoyance flickered in her eyes at his touch, a silent protest against his dismissive words.

He persisted in compressing her cheeks with his fingers until she slapped his hand, causing him to burst into laughter. As she gingerly massaged her cheeks, a disapproving expression formed on her face.  

“Stop laughing. S’not funny.”  she huffed, annoyed, though, she concurred with Satoru’s observation that they were unquestionably horrible people, as they consistently subjected both her and Satoru to their abusive behavior.

“Huh, whatever.” satoru rolled his eyes, lips forming into a pout as he playfully glares at [Name].

“Killjoy,” He mumbled.

“Fuck off.” [Name] replied curtly as he laughed at her grumpiness.

“Don’t you want to be loved,” Satoru whispers, planting a tender kiss on her forehead. She responded with an exaggerated eye roll, the corners of her lips lifting into a smirk.

“Maybe i don’t.” she quipped.

“Liar.” He giggles.

“But anywayyy let's get back to our discussion,” Satoru continues, reclining leisurely.

“You don't need anyone else, just me. You don't need those suck up bitches.”

Her mood instantly fell.

A scoff escapes her lips involuntarily. He wasn't wrong. Why seek the fleeting affections of others when she has him by her side? Why yearn for external love when she has a flawless brother who cherishes and supports her unconditionally?

“Suppose that you’re right, they’re nothing but assholes.” she conceded, her voice laced with annoyance.  

“True, True.” Satoru hums, before his eyes narrowed.

“You know.. if you asked me to, I would’ve killed them all for you.” The intensity of his loyalty was evident in his voice as he too, harbored a deep dislike towards them; His own family, excluding [Name], ofcourse.

To him, they were simply a group of despicable assholes who failed to treat him as a child should be treated. Instead of showering him with affection and care, they regarded him as a precious gem—not in the loving way, but rather, they treated him like a possession to be controlled and manipulated.

Their motives behind their actions were solely driven because he possessed the coveted six eyes technique and the limitless technique, which enabled them to flaunt him as a trophy rather than genuinely loving him.

However, Satoru’s adored sister; [Name], stood out from the rest. Their relationship was exceptional, as she treated him with genuine affection and treated him as an ordinary human being—and not see him as if he was a deity.

The love she demonstrated towards him was reciprocated wholeheartedly, further strengthening their bond. Consequently, he developed an instinctual need to protect her; [Name] was the only person who had truly shown him what love meant, the person who healed his inner child.

Satoru also possessed a deep understanding of the underlying cause behind the mistreatment experienced by [Name]. The core reason was rooted in her identity as a non-sorcerer amidst a lineage of esteemed and influential sorcerers. Incapable of perceiving curses and  not having the ability to interact with them. Thus she became a target of their cruelty.

She became a living embodiment of shame for the Gojo clan, which motivated their abusive behavior towards her. Despite being aware of this, Satoru remained indifferent to such prejudices. He saw the situation as profoundly unjust, harboring a sincere desire for [Name] to receive affection and tenderness instead.

The mistreatment she endured did nothing but deepen his conviction. And their control over her was so extreme that she wasn’t even allowed to step foot outside her own home, satoru has to sneak hed out whenever he could. And it was all because the Gojo clan, couldn’t bear the thought of being embarrassed or shamed by the revelation that their esteemed bloodline of ‘all sorcerers’ also consisted of a non-sorcerer. This overprotectiveness towards their reputation had always existed.

They were fucking lunatics that is willing to kill and abuse a child just for the sake of their damn reputation.

The initial motive for Satoru's intention to eliminate the gojo clan was primarily due to this particular reason. Satoru proceeded to fix his gaze upon [Name], and he gently ruffled [Name]’s words.

“But seriously, i’ll kill them.”

“Just say the word, [Name]. and nii-chan will kill them all.

With a hint of amusement, she snorted.

“If you did that, you would become the new disgrace of our clan.”

Despite being labeled as the black sheep and outcast among their clan members, [Name] found it rather amusing that Satoru would jeopardize his reputation for her sake. However, deep down, she was aware that Satoru possessed an effortless ability to resolve any situation. He was the strongest after all.

“Wouldn't want you to take the title i worked so hard to earn.”

[Name] added sarcastically, displaying a hint of amusement. 

Satoru rolled his eyes and let out a snort.

“Why would I be considered a disgrace to the family when there won't be any family left once I kill them all?” He countered, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. The idea of wiping out their entire clan appeared to be a lighthearted topic for him, even though the gravity of such a deed was not lost on either of them.  

[Name] sighed irritably and rolled her eyes.

“Whatever..” She muttered a half-hearted response, her lips forming a small amused smile as she glanced at Satoru. Despite her annoyance, she couldn’t help but feel a bit amused by his persistent optimism. 

“Anywayyy”

Satoru began.

“Let’s go out and grab something to eat outside.” He intertwined his fingers, attempting to divert the conversation. However, [Name] furrowed her brows and shifted her gaze away, visibly troubled.

“You do realize that I'm forbidden from leaving, right?” she said with a weary sigh, her frustration mounting. But Satoru simply shrugged off her concerns. 

“Who the fuck cares about those ridiculous rules?” Satoru grumbled indignantly, clasping her forearm gently.

“Definitely me.”

[Name] retorted as she shot him a scolding look, trying to free her arm from his grasp. Although she yearned to venture outside with her brother, the fear of punishment held her back. After all, she dreaded a repeat of the painful whipping she had endured just two weeks prior, as punishment for accidentally spilling scalding hot tea on her mother. the faint red marks of it still lingered on her back. Yet, she had never confided in Satoru about it, fearing his anger.

“No, thank you. I'd rather not,” she mumbled softly, her voice filled with reluctance. Satoru’s eyes narrowed, a hint of annoyance evident on his face.

“Nah uh, you listen to your nii-chan, girl.” Satoru pressed his lips on a line as he looked at hed.

“We’re goin’ outside. You look pale as hell, as if you haven't basked in sunlight for ages,”

•───夏油傑───•

Satoru had actually fucking dragged his sister out.

And left her alone on the fucking park to buy food, and now, [Name] was sitting alone on a park bench while patiently (maybe not) waiting for satoru to come back.

[Name]’s hair danced in the gentle breeze as she settled onto a park bench, cherishing this rare moment of solitude. Being confined indoors for such a prolonged period had taken its toll on her. Satoru, aware of this, would often aid her in secretly venturing outside, allowing her to at least bask in some fresh air.

As she sat alone, she let out a soft sigh while immersing herself in the melodious symphony of birds chirping. 

Satoru excused himself momentarily, venturing off to fetch food, leaving [Name] alone in the park. Despite his assurance of a speedy return, anxiety gnawed at her insides. After all, she was in the midst of the public eye, vulnerable to discovery by her own clan members. With bated breath, she patiently awaited Satoru’s arrival, she closed her eyes for a moment before reopening them.

She let out a quiet gasp and visibly flinched as a man suddenly sat on the bench beside her. Her heart thumped within her chest, reverberating almost deafeningly in her ears. Her hands trembled slightly and became clammy, but she dare not move until Satoru returned. The thought of venturing away from her spot only increased the risk of losing her way or being spotted by a member of the Gojo clan. 

To create distance between herself and the stranger, [Name] discreetly scooted away, distancing herself as much as possible. She studied him intently, her gaze sweeping from head to toe, absorbing every intricate detail of his appearance. His jet-black hair was tied up neatly. It was impossible to miss the bangs that gently brushed and covered his left eye partially, swaying along with the wind. Notably, he donned a similar uniform to Satoru, although with subtle differences such as the baggy pants in contrast to Satoru's fitted attire.

As she observed him, a certain assumption formed in her mind: he too must be a sorcerer, just like Satoru.

The moment the man let out a cough, an unanticipated reaction ignited within her, causing her to flinch and almost leap out of her seat. The visible disgust etched on his face indicated that he had consumed something repulsive, leading [Name] to assume that he had indeed eaten something disgusting.

[Name] felt a lump in her throat. Hed hand twitched, wanting to extend aid to the man in need. However, memories of Satoru's teachings echoed in her mind, warning her to not talk with strangers.

Yet, this man appeared to be a sorcerer and there was a possibility that Satoru might be acquainted with him, considering they attended the same school.

‘Does satoru knows this dude?’ she pondered.

Engulfed in internal conflict, she weighed the pros and cons of assisting him, before deciding to finally help him.

‘Ew..’

She cringed a little as she watched the man next to her suddenly regurgitate his stomach contents onto the floor, the man reached out to clutch his throat in discomfort, his voice barely audible as he uttered words akin to expressing his disgust.

[Name] wrestled with the internal conflict of whether she should engage in a conversation with him, torn between her desire to offer some solace and her uncertainty.

Taking to heart the advice she had received, which emphasized the importance of aiding others in their time of need, she pondered on how she could ease his discomfort.

Suddenly, a notion sprang to mind—she could offer him candy, as it might help alleviate the lingering taste of his stomach acid that clung to the recesses of his mouth.

Taking a handful of candies that she habitually kept in her pockets, she hesitantly tapped the man’s shoulder, hoping to offer him some solace. In a hesitant tone, she uttered,

“Excuse me, sir.”

[Name] offered him an awkward smile.

The man turned his gaze towards her, encompassing her in his piercing stare, momentarily taking her breath away. The twinkle of unease shimmered within her throat as he forced a smile whilst rubbing his throat, further validating her suspicion that he had indeed consumed something vile.

“Hello there, can I be of any assistance?” he kindly inquired, his smile was forced, though, [Name] noted. 

“I noticed that you just vomited... and your esophagus were probably burning from the corrosive stomach acid that accompanied your vomiting.” she  observed.

He observed her with a slightly confused look, realizing that her choice of words was rather unusual. An idiosyncrasy perhaps? After all, she was expressing it in a manner more suited to scientific discourse, something not commonly done by regular individuals. 

With an effort to disregard the repulsive scene of his vomit on the floor, he raised his head to meet her eyes. 

“Well... It definitely causes a burning sensation,” he said, letting out a small chuckle.  

“Ah.. but still, I'm sorry that you have to see that. I didn’t noticed that someone is here...” he admitted, his hand gently massaging the back of his neck.

Expressing his distaste, he remarked with a slight hint of disgust on his face,

“I just recently consumed something... disgusting.”

He added, the thing he consumed happened to be a special grade curse, and it definitely tasted like shit, it was so disgusting to the point that he vomited in the end.

“that explains why you vomited then,” she mumbled. “Yeah,” he replied awkwardly.

[Name] extended her palms towards him, revealing a collection of candies neatly stored in a shiny golden plastic container.

“These are mint candies, sir. You can have them,” she offered, flashing a warm smile at him.

“This’ll help you get rid of the shitty taste of whatever you had eaten.”

In response, he blinked and mustered an awkward smile.

“I’ll have to refuse, but thank you for the offer”

The thought of accepting the candies crossed his mind as a potential remedy for the repulsive aftertaste of the curse he had inadvertently consumed earlier. However, he hesitated, not wanting to impose too much on this unfamiliar girl. What if the candies were poisoned or had some ulterior motive behind them? Nevertheless, he couldn't deny the striking resemblance she bore to Satoru, albeit in a somewhat vague manner.

“I insist, sir please take it.” she asserted.

“No, really, I'm alright,” he politely declined again, accompanied by a smile, shaking his head to emphasize his refusal.

“Please.. I insist sir, please accept this,” she pleaded with a concerned expression, momentarily forgetting Satoru's advice to never talk to strangers.

He observed [Name]’s face and contemplated quietly, recognizing that perhaps it wouldn't be too terrible to accept her offering. A small smile formed on his lips as he spoke to himself. 

“Alright, I suppose I can give it a try,” he replied, his voice barely audible. He accepted the candies from her outstretched hands, feeling a bit awkward in his actions. As he took the treats, a bright smile radiated from her face.

“I’m Gojo [Name],” 

he looked at her with curiosity. Judging by her surname, she must be a member of the Gojo clan, he speculated.

In response, he introduced himself, “Geto Suguru.”

Now Suguru understood why Satoru resembled the girl—they must be related somehow. The thought crossed his mind to inquire if she was acquainted with Satoru, a highly probable assumption, but he dismissed the idea. However, suguru couldn't help but feel perplexed by one thing—why was she a non-sorcerer despite her clan's background?  

“It’s nice to meet you, Geto-san.” she smiled at him.

“Likewise, Gojo-san” he replied, a small smile curling at his lips.

An awkward silence then filled the air.

Feeling awkward, Suguru gingerly unwrapped the candy and placed it onto his tongue. The taste was delicately sweet and cool at the same time, and his mouth gradually began to cool as he continued to savor the candy. With each swirl around his mouth, the repugnant taste of the curse and his stomach acid started to dissipate.  

Yet, his gaze suddenly became focused as he noticed a concealed curse lurking on a nearby tree. Intriguingly, she followed his line of sight and directed her confused gaze towards him. Tilting her head slightly, she inquired,

“What are you looking at, Geto-san?”

“Nothing..” Suguru replied. After all, he knows that she, being a non-sorcerer with no curse energy, was unable to perceive curses like he could. He casted a quick glance at her before he directed his attention back to the tree. However, before suguru had the chance to utter a word, [Name] preemptively spoke, causing him to pause.

“Oh, I see you found a curse up there then.”

•───夏油傑───•

Extra:

•Gojo got lost and was panicking

•Gojo doesn't know that [Name] can see curses

•Geto thinks that [Name] is pretty

•The candy [Name] gave Geto is her homemade candy.

•Gojo was actually planning on taking [Name] to jujutsu high with him and just give her a cursed tool to see curses.

•They're still students in here.

•Gojo is a platonic yandere

Support me on wattpad?🥺

[djarincore]

The Object of My Desire

SUMMARY: You're a hardworking scholar and the spoiled daughter of a corrupt nobleman.

The mercenary hired for your protection is more than willing to take your father's money, just not your bratty attitude. Luckily, he's got a few ways to deal with spoiled little girls like you.

PAIRING: fighter!price x wizard!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

TAGS: DND!au, porn with some plot, f masturbation, dirty talk, cunnilingus, he bends you over a desk, PIV, rough sex, unprotected sex, slight breath play, creampie, slight jealously, reader gets called a bitch (not by Price but he does call you a brat whoops)

A/N: this is just a silly little idea that popped into my head while I tried learning more about DND! I actually rolled some dice to make some decisions/outcomes and it made the writing experience way more fun 10/10 recommend

Winter’s gray sky cast a torrent of rain against the cobblestone roads and blew frigid winds through the streets of Moongarde. Despite the relentless weather, citizens continued to migrate towards the town's center in attendance for the annual Heroes Feast. 

You clutched your cloak tighter against your chest as you weaved through the crowds of people heading in the opposite direction. There were more important things to deal with than a stupid celebration—like the supposed danger you were in.

Having a father who enjoyed making enemies in high places certainly made your life interesting. Though, the threats on your life were, frankly, a nuisance. You had much better things to do than worry about silly threats from cowardly, old men. But, your father worried; he worried enough to hire a mercenary to guard you. 

You hoped he wasn't old and boring like the last one you chased away. Any guard who succumbed to simple illustory spells like fear weren't worth the gold your father spent. 

Ahead, a hanging sign swung forward in the wind. Carved into the wood was a crow perched on a branch, staring off beyond the borders of its design. The Ivory Crow—a dingy, little establishment you loathed to enter. 

With a grimace, you made your way up the creaking wooden stairs. Already, you could hear rowdy, clamorous songs and bellowing voices seeping through the cracks of its shabby, wooden walls. 

Before you could reach out to push open the swinging doors, they burst open and a man stumbled out, his weight nearly toppling onto you. 

“S’rry ‘bout tha’, m’ss,” he slurred, hiccuping as he ended his sentence. He grabbed onto one of the doors to steady himself, though he still swayed. 

“Move,” you demanded. His body blocked half the entrance and you weren’t interested in squeezing past him. He was covered in stains, presumably sweat and booze from the acrid smell of him. 

He lifted his head towards you, eyes half-lidded. “Hey, don’ tell me wha’ ta do,” he hissed. 

You rolled your eyes and raised a finger towards the man. The familiar warmth of magic pooled at your fingertip and was dispelled when you tapped his forehead.

He crumpled to the ground, eyes closed with his chest still rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. 

You wiped your finger against your velvet cloak and stepped over the unconscious body into the tavern. 

The inside was warmly lit by a large candle chandelier hanging from the tall rafters and more candles decorating tables. No one in the tavern seemed to have noticed your exchange. They were all absorbed in their own ideas of fun. 

A dwarven bard strummed her lute on top of a table, singing an unfamiliar tune and absorbing the adoring applause of drunken patrons who chimed in off-key. Couples, locked in heated embraces, cozied themselves to dimly lit corners of the tavern. 

If it wasn’t singing or lovers, there was plenty of conversation floating through the air to distract from anything outside. 

Your eyes scanned the tavern’s edge, looking for a lone figure at one of the tables. 

The mercenary gave your father instructions for you to find him at the Ivory Crow. Look for a bear on the pommel of his sword, your father had said.

In the far corner of the room, you finally spoted a vaguely familiar figure matching your idea of him, sitting on a stool with his back facing the wall and nursing a pint of ale between his hands. His eyes were downcast as he stared at the overflowing foam sliding down the metal pint. 

He seemed to be the only lone figure in the tavern, everyone else was joined by at least one other companion. 

His attire was shades of muted green and brown, darkened by grime and dirt. A sword tucked in its scabard leaned against the table. The pommel bore the crest of a roaring bear head.

You approached swiftly, maneuvering your way past the overflowing tables filled with patrons and stumbling drunks trying to get to the bar. 

When you reached the mercenary, you stood at the edge of his table. His gaze lifted from his drink to you. Blue eyes met yours.

He wasn't as old as your last guard, and he certainly wasn't as boring to look at. 

There was no surprise on his face as he looked at you, no glimmer of recognition; his stern countenance gave away nothing of his thoughts. His gaze was almost intense, discerning, and calculating.

You broke eye contact first to look down at the round stool opposite him. It had a spot of liquid on the edge that made you grimace. 

All the other surrounding chairs looked occupied. So, you dug through your leather bag and pulled a purple cloth from it. 

You wordlessly conjured up a spectral blue hand and offered up the cloth for it to wipe away the liquid. The hand dried up the liquid and deposited the cloth on the table before vanishing.

The mercenary had crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall to watch you, legs spread wide. Inquisitive eyes followed as you took a seat, back stiff with hands tucked into your cloak, clutching it tighter to your body as if it were shielding you.  

“Ser Jonathan Price, correct?” 

He nodded once and said nothing. 

You fished a hefty pouch from your leather bag and tossed it towards him. The platinum pieces inside rattled as they hit the table. 

His eyes fell to the bag for a moment, then slid back up to you, not attempting to reach for the pouch. 

Maybe he was unimpressed. 

“There's your payment for today—one hundred platinum pieces,” you stated and cleared your throat. “Now, the rules for this arrangement are simple: protect me and stay out of my way.”

You think he understood. He didn't say anything otherwise. There was a slight twitch in your eye when he tilted his head like he was looking at an amusing, little oddity. 

After another moment his arms unfurled and a hand reached out for the pouch. He cradled it in his palm, hefting it for its weight. The coins rattled. When he pushed two fingers into the closed seam and spread it open, you scoffed.

“If you think I'm lying, don't. Your coin is there.” You crossed your arms, in an attempt to be as nonplussed as he was—it was a poor attempt. You couldn't help the frown that stuck to your lips. 

He removed his fingers from the pouch and rapped his knuckles down hard against the wooden table twice, making you flinch and catching the attention of a passing barmaid. 

Their exchange was quick. She turned her head toward him with a bright smile, flirty even as her eyes roamed down his figure. He pointed a finger down at his pint and flicked his wrist up to call for one more. She nodded and flitted back to the bar. 

“Easy enough,” he said when he turned back to you. His voice was smoky, low. Probably caused by too many cigarettes and shouting. He rested his forearms on the table, one hand still gripped around the pouch. “But drop the ser, m’ not a knight.”  

Your brows furrowed. You recalled the description your father gave you of him. A knight who served under the King’s banner for twenty years. “But you’re-” 

“I was,” he interrupted firmly, leaving you with no room to argue. 

Your mouth remained open, wanting to bite back, but when his brow raised slightly at the hint of a challenge, you clenched your jaw. Any attempt to delve further into the topic would only prove futile and a waste of time. 

You took in a deep breath through your nose and exhaled through your mouth. “Fine,” you acquiesced. “How do I address you then?”

“John’s good enough for me."

“Okay, John,” you ground out and stood from your seat. “I want to leave before nightfall.” 

He held his hand up, stopping you in your place. “We're not going anywhere yet, love.” 

You bristled at both the nickname and his order. The arrangement was supposed to be the other way around. You give him orders and he follows. 

“Sit, drink—I already bought you a mug.”  

On cue, the barmaid returned to the table with another overflowing pint in her hand and set it down on your side. She wiped her hand down on her apron and looked at John, her charming smile returning. “Anythin’ else I can getcha?”

“No, thank you.” He returned her smile with a grin of his own. He dug into the pouch and pulled out a platinum piece, setting it in her outstretched hand. 

Her eyes widened as she shook her head. “This is too much! The drinks are only ten silver!”

You crossed your arms and interjected, “I agree. That's far too much.” 

“Keep it,” he assured, waving her off. 

The barmaid scurried away with an even wider smile than you thought possible. Her hair and skirt bounced as she went. 

With her gone, he turned his attention back to you and gestured back to your stool. “Drink with me.”

The foam dribbling down the sides of the metal pint made you grimace. You didn't drink ale; it wasn't to your taste. You preferred the rich, sweet taste of Evermead. 

But, another part of you was tempted, not by cheap ale. It was the mercenary, the ex-knight, Jonathan Price. Stern to you, yet kind to the barmaid. Silent but still expressive. You felt the tug of curiosity, the desire to learn everything about this stranger and unfold his secrets. 

You sat, watching as he took his ale and the bob of his throat as he drank. 

He set down his drink, now half full, and nodded his head toward your mug. “Don't be shy, love. Go on.” 

Your hand snuck out from your cloak and grasped the handle, cold and slightly sticky. Slowly, to not spill, you lifted the mug and took a sip. Cold liquid slid down your throat. The ale was bitter, watered down, and made your mouth twist with disgust. 

“That bad, eh?” He chuckled. You were alarmed to find his low, raspy chuckle disarming. Surely, the ale hadn't got to your head already.

You set the mug down, pushing it further away with your fingers, and wiped your lips clean of any foam left behind with the back of your hand. “I can't believe you like this.”

“Oh, I don't like this garbage.” He laughed, grabbing his mug once more. His thumb idly ran down the handle, throwing a glance out to the crowded tavern. “Just drinking to pass the time.”

“Surely there are better taverns to drink in.” You glanced around at the rowdy patrons once more. Two men were standing toe to toe at the table across from you, exchanging heated words. 

When he failed to respond, you tried following his eye. It led you to the opposite side of the room toward the barmaid who served you earlier tending to a group of adventurers. She pressed her hip against the table and chatted with them, laughing. 

“So, it’s not the drinks that bring you back,” you muttered to yourself, moving your gaze back to him. 

The small smile that tugged the corner of his lips as he watched her caused a strange feeling to stir in your chest. You clenched your hands together, forcing away the uncomfortable squeeze.

You stood abruptly from your seat, ignoring your chair tipping backwards and hitting the floor. His attention was on you again. The smile was gone.

“We’re going.”

“Haven't finished your drink,” he called as you stormed off. 

You ignored him, pushing straight between the two quarreling men. Your hands pressed hard against both their chests to pry them out of your way. 

The two men stumbled back, caught off guard. 

“Hey!”

“Don't touch me, you little bitch,” the other snarled. His hand shot out to grab your wrist, narrowly latching on. 

His movements were sloppy, most likely from all the ale he'd been drinking. You were quick enough to snatch your hand away before he could restrain you. 

You were beginning to really hate this tavern. 

More patrons were beginning to watch the exchange, sitting back like it was some spectacle. 

But, you saw John rise from his stool. His hand grasping his sword as he approached the men from behind. 

“Let's settle down, gentleman,” he said with a tired sigh.

The man who tried grabbing you turned his attention to John. “Stay outta this,” he hissed, clenching his fists and setting his shoulders back. He was much larger than John, towering at least a head taller.

You didn't want to find out how well a brawl between the two would end. 

“Obtempero."

The spell sliped from your lips and the man stiffend. In that instance, your mind was linked with his as you forcibly erased any free will he had. 

Shut up and sit down, you commanded. 

The room went silent as the man lowered onto his seat. You clenched your jaw when your head began to throb, a sign of him fighting against your control.

“Quickly,” you beckoned to the mercenary. Your control over the man’s mind wouldn't last long and you didn't want to stick around to face his wrath. 

You turned and dashed out the tavern doors, followed closely by John who was laughing to himself. 

“Clearly you can handle yourself. Don't know what you need me for,” he said.

A light rainfall had started, coating you and the streets in water. You raised your hood over your head to shield yourself. 

The street was still bustling with citizens with their umbrellas. A good cover in case the man tried following the two of you.

“I only agreed to a guard to appease father’s worries,” you muttered, sidestepping a pair of children running past you, chasing each other with wooden swords. “But, dealing with pea-brained oafs is easy compared to defending myself from someone with a dagger.”

He only hummed in reply, walking in stride with you up the cobblestone street. The rain was beginning to dampen his hair and clothes, but he didn't seem to mind.

You could feel your concentration on the spell waning the further you got until it snapped. You tensed and reached to grab John’s hand. His fingers wrapped around yours without question.

“We have to-”

“You bitch! I'm gonna tear you apart!”

Your head snapped around to find the man burst from the tavern door with a roar. Your heart jumped. The man almost seemed to burn with fury as he barreled up the street in search of you.

“This way.” 

John tugged your hand and you allowed him to pull you through the street, weaving your way through throngs of people. He pulled you through unfamiliar streets that passed by in a blur before taking a sharp right into an alleyway, tugging you into the shadows. 

Your back was against the stone walls and you heaved a sigh. Your heart raced with adrenaline. This certainly wasn't anything you'd experienced while nose-deep in a book. “Gods, I-”

“Shh,” he hushed, placing a hand over your mouth. 

Your eyes widened. He was looking out towards the street and you realized how close he was standing, nearly pressed against your front. Your hand gripped his wrist; to pry it off or hold him close, you didn't know.

When he deemed the coast clear, his hand fell away.

“Don't do that again,” you said weakly. 

He looked down at you, an amused smile forming. “Understood. Mind giving me my hand back then?”

You didn't realize your grip on his wrist remained. You released him and slipped away. 

“I'll lead us home.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun was just setting by the time you returned to the manor. John had followed you silently the whole way. 

“Welcome back, ma'am,” Ann greeted once you entered the foyer. She was a maid you'd known since you were a child. Her warm smile was akin to that of a mother’s, though you'd never call her such. 

“Ann will run you a bath and get you some new clothes.”

She was already moving up the left side of the split staircase to fulfill your request.

“What's wrong with my clothes?” John glanced down at his attire, smoothing his hand down the front of his doublet, now soaked with rain. 

“They're filthy and soaked. Now go.” You used your hand to shoo him off and he followed Ann with a sigh, ascending the stairs. 

You went off to another area of the manor where you could take your own bath and wash away the grime of that tavern.

When the bath was filled and ready, you shed your robes and stepped into the warmth, sighing as the warm water enveloped your body. You ran your hand up your arm, over your neck, and down your collarbone. 

While you washed, your thoughts wandered back to John. A hand slipped down the valley of your breasts and between your thighs. 

There was no question that he was attractive. The mercenary was new and surprisingly exciting—an experiment to toy with. You wanted to win him, have him in the palm of your hand and study what made him tick. 

Your index finger brushed against your clit. The first hum of pleasure bolted through your body. Slow teasing circles were drawn over your clit until you ached for more. Two fingers parted your folds to allow your middle finger to dip in. 

You sunk lower into the water, chin rippling the surface, and let your eyes fall shut to embrace your own touch while imagining it was someone else's. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you slipped out of the bath, satisfied, you redressed into a new robe. The loose low neck reached your abdomen, teasing the inner valley of your breasts. 

As you made your way to your room, you noticed the door was left slightly ajar. When you pushed open the door, you found John standing at your bookshelf, his fingers running down the spine of a tome. 

He was in a fresh set of clothes, loaned from a butler by the looks of it. The untucked, white dress shirt clung to the curves of his muscles, growing taut when he folded his arms. The black pants fit his form enough to show off the thickness of his thighs.

You shut the door and leaned against it, eyeing his form. The ache between your legs was growing again, wanting more than just your fingers this time. 

John turned around at the noise and you could see the buttons of his shirt were halfway done, revealing his toned chest with a smattering of hair. 

“Impressive collection,” he remarked. “I’d expect no less from a wizard.”

“I spent my entire life building this collection,” you replied absently. Your mind was wandering to other things—the veins on his arms, the bulge of his pectorals in the shirt. You were unashamedly staring through lowered eyelids, greedily taking in the sight. 

He was just as interested in your low cut robes. It was obvious in the way his eyes roamed your chest. 

You chose to close the gap until you were beside the bookcase, just a foot away from his side. 

He leaned his shoulder against the shelves and looked at you with a sly smirk. “Trying to charm me?”

Magic would make your game too easy.

Your hand moved to caress his jaw, smoothing over the soft hairs of his beard. He didn't move away, choosing to lean further into your touch. 

“I don't need to,” you hummed. Your fingers clawed up the slope of his neck and into the short strands of damp hair, drawing his face closer. “You're already mine.”

“That so?” His words fluttered along your lips in warm breaths. Strong hands fell to the curves of your waist, smoothing down to your ass and pulling you against his front. 

You felt the growing stiffness of his cock, trapped in his pants, press against your abdomen which only made the throbbing of your cunt worse. Instead of responding, you leaned forward and sealed your lips tightly against his, tasting smoke and bitter ale on his tongue. 

John was quick to respond, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip to get you to open up for him. His grip slid down your ass, roughly squeezing the soft flesh in his large palms. 

You rubbed yourself against his bulge, trying to satisfy the need growing inside of you. There was a needy, animalistic frenzy in his low groan, vibrating in his chest. 

He backed you up towards your desk. It was cluttered with more tomes you amassed over the years, threatening to spill at the slightest touch. Your prized spell book, a gift from your father, was also sitting open, flipped to the enchantment spell you used earlier at the tavern. 

John didn't seem to care much for your precious collection as he swiped the books off your desk to make room to set you down. They scattered to the floor.

You pulled away, intent on telling him off. That spell book was one of a kind—

He didn't give you room to argue, much less breathe. His lips were already diving forward to capture yours again, dizzying you, driving any thought out of your head. Your legs spread around his to accommodate his body as he forced your attention back on him.

John’s hands pushed aside the fabric of your robe which easily fell around your waist, exposing your bare breasts to the cool room air. Your hardening nipples rubbed against the coarse fabric of his shirt. 

Your hands roamed his chest in turn, running over the coarse hairs and clawing down his exposed sternum. You worked quickly to unbutton the rest of his shirt and pushed it off his broad shoulders. 

Once revealed, you trailed your eyes over his chest and down to a nasty scar sliced from his upper torso across his stomach. It was old by the scaring. You briefly wondered if it was the reason he was no longer a knight as your hand reached out to brush over it. 

John caught your wrist in an iron grip. When you looked back at his face, his stern expression told you enough to stay silent about it. With your short nod, the tension in the air lifted and he was back to work on you.

Another night then, you thought. You'd unravel his secrets eventually. 

When he released your wrist and pulled away, he moved down to his knees, untying the knot at your waist and pushing aside the rest of the fabric to reveal the rest of your body. With your thighs spread, he could fit his hand between your thighs, feeling the arousal leaking from your cunt. 

“So wet already?” 

His middle finger parted your folds, dipping in ever so slightly, causing your hips to shift forward, but he pulled away before you could feel him any deeper. He got to his knees, grunting as his settled.

Your legs hooked over his shoulders, leaving him face to face with your cunt. His heavy breath fanned over your exposed cunt. 

“What a sight,” he muttered to himself before leaning in to flick his tongue over your clit again and again. 

Your body trembled with static after every stroke of his tongue. Your fingers locked through his brown hair, tugging sharply at the roots. He hissed through his teeth at the sting, but even that didn't stop him. 

His hands gripped your thighs around his shoulders, digging into the soft flesh and then smoothing up until his hands cupped your ass to push you further into his mouth. 

One of your hands rested on the table to give yourself leverage as you rode his face. The hair of his beard burned against your inner thigh.

The pleasure thruming through your veins forced your legs to lock around his head as your orgasm came to its peak. 

“That's it,” he coaxed. “Come in my fuckin’ mouth, love.” 

John kept his mouth on your fluttering cunt, refusing to pull away until he had taken every last drop of your cum. Your hands weakly pulled on his hair, but his fingers dug deeper into your thighs as he forced his head back in. 

“Gods,” you panted, looking down at him between your thighs, devouring you like a starved man. “Fuck me already.” 

“Patience,” he huffed, flicking his tongue languidly over your clit once again. Your body stiffened again. “You think you can take me after one little orgasm?” 

As you clenched around nothing and his tongue continued to take long strokes over your cunt, you rolled your eyes and snapped back, “Don’t be so cocky.”

He rose quickly after your remark, yanking your body off the desk as he went and forcing you around. One of his palms met the back of your neck and pushed you flat against the desk. His cock pressed against your ass. The fabric of his pants were rough against your bare skin. 

“Let-"

His other hand clamped over your mouth and he growled into your ear, “No—no more orders. I'll give you what you want, but don't start cryin’ when it doesn't fit.” 

You ached, wanting to rub your thighs together but his legs were in the way. His hand moved from your mouth to the button of his pants to pull himself free. 

You could feel his thick cock press against your ass. Even without looking, you could tell he was nothing like the other wizards you'd have meaningless flings with in school.  

His cock notched at your entrance and he asked lowly, “Ready, love?” 

The hand over your mouth moved to caress the valley of your knuckles as your hand clasped the edge of the desk. Such an intimate gesture you almost wanted to embrace by turning over your hand and intertwining fingers. 

But, you didn't have time for much thought before he buried himself into you as deep as he could go without resistance. Which was only the tip of his cock.

Your walls clamped around him, refusing to let him bully his way deeper. You whimpered, white-knuckling the desk, and shut your eyes. Gods, he was too thick. 

“Shh,” he cooed in your ear. His fingers slid across your temple and into your hair, keeping your head against the desk. “You wanted this, right? You can take more.”

And he did give you more—and more, and more. Your clawed at the desk, welled up tears spilling down the side of your face, as he stretched you around his cock. You didn't breathe, not until his hips met your ass and you were completely filled to the brim. 

You gasped, filling your lungs with air. The edge of the desk pressing against your abdomen allowed you to feel him deeper. 

He grunted as you clenched around his length. “So fuckin’ tight,” he muttered to himself as he slowly rocked into your fluttering heat. 

The friction wasn't enough for you. As always, you wanted more. You wanted to be fucked, ravished, devoured completely and thrown into a sickening rapture. 

“More,” you moaned as his cocked dragged against your walls. You were needy and hungry for him to take you harder. 

“Does a brat like you even know how to say please?” He slipped out of you completely instead. 

You whined in protest, moving your hips back to fill the empty ache he left behind. His hands moved to grip your waist, holding you in place. “No, don't.”

“Too good to beg for it?” His fingers prodded at your entrance before he slipped two inside. They weren't comparable to his cock though—not as thick, not as full. “Come on my fingers then.”

His fingers curled against the sensitive spongey spot inside of you.

“F-Fuck you,” you ground out between your teeth, biting back a moan. 

“That’s not what I asked for.” His voice was stern; there was no room for arguments, no room for demands other than his own. 

You bit your lip. You weren't the one who was supposed to be begging—he was. Having John wrapped around your finger, desperate to please you like everyone else, was the end goal. But this? 

Strong, commanding, taking what he wants—that was who John was. And even you couldn't help but relent to that dominance. 

“Please.”

“Speak up, love.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. 

Bastard. 

“Please,” you repeated with a little more desperation than intended.

“Good girl,” he praised. His fingers slipped from you, pulling a string of your arousal with them, and he licked them clean. With his hands back on your hips, he lined up his cock and thrust back into you. 

Your mouth hung open as your back arched into the desk. The pace he set was relentless. It rocked your desk, sending any books and papers left on it to the floor. But you didn't care anymore, not when he found that perfect spot inside you again and again. Your toes curled as warmth pooled in your stomach and your core tightened. 

A hand wrapped around your neck once again, wrenching your back against his chest and forcing your head to the side. The sweat of your bodies melded you together. John’s fingers pressed on your throat with enough pressure to make you see stars. His gruff pants burst along the shell of your ear. His lips grazed the back of your neck as another hand moved to toy with your clit. 

You cursed as your body seized up and you came around him. You held onto the arm pressed against your chest as you rode out your orgasm. 

With a few more sharp thrusts, he spilled inside of you, flooding you with warmth. As you caught your breaths, he cupped your jaw and turned your head towards his to pull you into a searing kiss, still full of passion just like the first. 

You were almost boneless, sinking into the kiss and his arms. “Bed,” you murmured, resting your head against his shoulder when he released your jaw. “Now.”

John clicked his tongue as he slid out of you. A mix of your arousal begin to leak down your leg. You flinched when his hand cupped your sex to stop anymore from escaping. 

The action felt more possessive than anything else—something you weren't used to. Interest stirred in you once again. 

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Mora makes Teyvat go round

Self-Aware! BSD x SAGAU Imposter crossover

Self-Aware! Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald x GN! Reader

Description: Ningguang and Pantalone are proud of being of Creator's good side. With power of mora and buisnesses, they will gain more strength, gaining even more favours from Creator to their nations.

Unfortunately, mora is low due to attacks on caravans.

But, this new possible partner, who wants to offer organise trades between nations, peak their interest.

Warning: OOC. English is my second language. Slight mutilation (non-descriptive). Dehumanisation (Reader called 'it'.

______

Mora is stability.

Mora is power.

Mora is respect.

People need mora to get food, clothes, houses. Everything.

People need mora to build shrines for Creator.

Ningguang and Pantalone use mora to give Creator respect and happiness.

______

Pantalone's eyes twitched.

Another ship was sailed, another caravan was attacked.

And nothing can be done about it.

Dottore tried. And look, where he is now? Went completely mad, tried to kill Creator, and now is locked in a cell.

It became another hit on Snezhnaya's reputation in the eyes of other nations.

And in the eyes of Creator.

Their Holiness, after Dirty Imposter disappeared, were wrecked with sorrow.

Each day, nations brought gifts to the ivory throne.

Each day, people were searching for an Imposter.

Both of these actions were focused on bringing back Creator's smile.

And both actions required mora.

Mora, that Snezhnaya start becoming low.

Pantalone breathe in.

The situation was bad.

Yes, he has enough mora to spoil Creator for the next hundreds of years.

Yet, in this situation, he needs more mora.

Much more.

Pantalone looked at the pile of open letters he had on his table. Offers, coming from different groups. Travelers, mercenary, wanderers.

All of them offered their help in moving goods from nation to nation.

All of them failed.

Pantalone took another unopened letter.

He read through it.

Another offer. And he has no other choice, except it.

__________

Ningguang read through the contract one more time. It was written on a fancy paper with an ornament around the edges. Pantalone, who was sitting next to her, read through his own contract.

Pantalone spoke, looking at possible businesses partner above glasses.

"I must say, Mister Fitzgerald, it's quite an interesting offer."

Blonde businessman smiles politely.

Pantalone cast an interested gaze on the gems, that were laying in the middle of the table.

Gems looked stunning. They looked almost perfect, they varied in sizes.

"Are you sure, that you could transport all the goods safely? You are aware of the situation, right?"

Fitzgerald took one of the gems.

"Mister Pantalone, Miss Ningguang, I assure you, My Team and I are more than capable of doing it. As you can see."

Fitzgerald pointed at the gems. "We have this gems here. From Fontaine. And we did a great job transporting them."

Pantalone and Ningguang looked at each other. Everyone said that. Everyone failed. Ningguang and Pantalone don't have any other choice.

Ningguang spoke.

"True. Let's try to do it. We spent a lot of mora on the Imposter Hunt. All these rewards and mercenaries."

Pantalone chuckled.

"But it was worth it. I even got a precious relic from it."

There were envy in Ningguang's eyes. She also has a little souvenir from the Hunt. Yet, in comparison to Pantalone's, her trophy was simpler.

"Anyway, It's a deal, Mr Fitzgerald."

Both contracts were signed.

Francis broke a tree trunk, when he left Liyue.

Pantalone lost a lot of jewelry because of it.

_______

The first trade was from Liyue to Mondstadt.

If someone saw a new trade caravan, they would think, that they have gone mad.

First, instead of a horse or ox, a white tiger was (somehow) harnessed to the cart. Atsushi chuffed from time to time, but did his job perfectly.

Fitzgerald was walking beside white tiger, looking around. He spoke out loud.

"Look, Weretiger boy, a dangerous monster."

Francis points at the hydro slime, that was more interested in berries, then caravan.

Meanwhile, Francis activated his ability.

"This beast can be defeated only with 100000000 mora punch. Mister Pantalone and Miss Ningguang were so generous, agreeing to give away all their mora, all their possessions to us, right?"

Atsushi scoffed.

Fitzgerald's punch left just a few hydro droplets from the slime.

Somewhere in Snezhnaya, in one of Pantalone's safes, 100000000 disappeared.

"We are saved... Oh, no! Another one!" theatrically gasped Fitzgerald, pointing at lizard, that was staring at the cart.

"This one is more deadly! I must double the effort!"

When the caravan arrived at Mondstadt (Atsushi turned back before someone could notice his tiger form), Ningguang's and Pantalone's safes became more spacious. And Teyvat wildlife get some damage.

______

Fitzgerald's plan was risky, to tell the truth. According to you and books Jouno and others have brought from Teyvat, there was only one language in Teyvat. At least, the only official language. There was no information, if other languages existed. But Francis decided to take this risk.

With some help from Poe, Natsume, Rimbaud and Fyodor, Fitzgerald created an 'ornament'. A synthetic language, that was made from mix of English, French and Russian alphabet and grammar. With Poe's writing, new words looked like an ornament.

The ornament, that proclaims, that person, who sigh the contract, will give away all their money and possessions to Fitzgerald.

And he has a nice little ability to use with new finance help.

_________

Francis stared at what was before him.

He proved, that he can be trusted. And, his businesses 'partners' show them, what their trophy's from the Imposter Hunt were.

_____

Ningguang had four bloodied canines....

****

Dirty Sinner were put in stocks in the middle of Liyue's Harbor. It looked half dead.

It wasn't enough. Tommorow it will be executed. It still have too much dignity.

Rocks, dirt, rotten fruits, manure...

Everything were thrown in Imposter.

It wasn't enough.

Ningguang stare at Imposter.

Its mouth were in blisters.

Its teeth were intact...

A dagger and her fingers weren't the best instruments for a dental practice.

But, Ningguang managed.

*****

And Pantalone had two pinkie fingers in the jar....

*****

It screamed, when its injured feet made contact with snow. Pantalone grinned.

He got a great trophy.

First one, who did it.

Soon, Imposter will lose even more.

Acolytes needs mementos from their great victory.

_______

Fitzgerald saw the mountains of gifts. Gifts for that beast, who ordered to hunt after his treasure.

And he, Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald, must be the one, who delivered it.

Francis can't stay here. In Teyvat.

He needs some real world.

He hopped, that he would reached Lowecraft 'waiting' place, before the sunrise.

_______

Fitzgerald stumbled from the portal, back to their world. He wasn't looking, where he was going. He needs to see you. To make sure, that you aren't in pain.

"What have you learned about, Fitzgerald?" Yosano's voice was sympathetic.

Francis looked at her. She was waiting for his answer.

She was the only one, who knew everything about your injuries.

Before that night, Fitzgerald only knew about burns.

He finally found his voice.

"Teeth... Toes..."

His voice was muffled, when Yosano hugged him, pressing his face to her shoulder.

She let him cry.

________

Pantalone was happy. Fitzgerald did a great job. Trades between nations slowly start anew.

Slowly, mire mora will come to Snezhnaya and his vault. And he will spend it to make Creator happy.

Suddenly, his mansion starts shaking.

The next moment, Pantalone was sitting on the Shezhnaya's snow. His home was nowhere in sight.

_______

In Guyun Stone Forest some of the stone spears, that Morax threw during Archon War, collapsed. Fitzgerald was sure, that crystalfly was a dangerous predator.

________

Ningguang grabbed the table, trying to stay on her feet. She was having a conversation with other Qixing, discussing, what other things they could trade with other nations, to use new mora on gifts for Creator, when half of the pillars in Guyun Stone Forest collapsed. Before anyone could react, a second earthquake came, destroying the rest of the stone pillars.

Outside, people of Liyue saw, how Jade chamber disappeared right before the earthquake.

______

Fitzgerald saw a second crystalfly.

______

Both Ningguang and Pantalone have a headache.

They have lost their houses. And, somehow, almost all mora they owned. There were no sighs of treasure horders or weasel thieves. Both Ningguang and Pantalone knew, how to be careful with spending mora.

Yet, both now have one thousand mora each.

The knock on the door made Pantalone and Ningguang turned their heads towards the exit.

Baisi noticeably flinched. She looked terrified.

"We finished looking through taxes declarations... And..."

Baisi put the documents on the table and left.

In a few moments, two loud shouts were heard.

"WHAT DOES IT MEAN, THAT HALF OF TEYVAT POPULATION BECAME BROKE?!"

______

Spa was quiet. Spa was good.

And this spa was completely yours and Fitzgerald's for today.

Fitzgerald announced, earlier today, that you two will have a self-care day. And 'drag' you here.

You had some sweets prepared for you.p

"Now, try this, Treasure" Fitzgerald put a sweet roll right to your lips. You took a generous bite.

Francis secretly smiles.

All your teeth were intact.

He cast a quick glance to your feet.

Currently, you two enjoyed foot massage.

Francis smiles. Your pinkies were here.

He squeezed your hand.

And promised to himself, to keep you safe and sound. And make sure, that no one will even think about taking something from you as a trophy.

____

Bonus

You raise an eyebrow, looking at all the mora Mark, Steinbeck, Dazai, Anglo, Fyodor and Sigma brought in the house.

You took one of the coins. It glimmered in daylight.

Without looking away from the coin, you asked.

"Okay, I will ask. How?"

Twain looked pleased with himself.

"We rob one of the banks, that belonged to that one, in glasses."

Steinbeck added.

"Fitzgerald won't be the only one, who could rob Mr Pants."

Dazai looked extremely proud.

"Ango and I are scumming people. We put some fake donation boxes. People are glad to spare some mora."

Ango, who was counting mora coins, spoke carefully. He was looking at you, observing your reaction.

"We tell everyone, that this mora will be used for a new shrine."

You didn't need an effort to not flinch. You spent enough time with Hawthorne to stop flinching every time the topic of religion came up.

Fyodor spoke next.

"And Sigma and I created a casino. Cards, some machines with toys for kids. Some prizes are unique and appealing to many. And almost impossible to win. But, as you know, everyone wants to play again."

Sigma shrugged.

"The prizes for everyone were my idea."

You dropped the coin back to the pile. Your mouth moved, before you can think.

"It reminds me of an anecdote. Want to hear it? A funny short story?"

Everyone immediately perked up. They took it as a sign of your recovery. It was good, that you start recalling something funny.

"Okay, [Y/N], we are ready for the story!" Naomi pretend to be impatient.

Well, there is no going back. You cleared your throat and started.

"One day, American man, Japanese man and Russian man decided to have a competition and see, who will make cat eat mustard by its own violation. American man immediately grabbed a jar and force mustard down cat's throat."

"Hey, that's violence!" Russian man objects. “You have failed!”

A Japanese man spread mustard between two pieces of fish and wrapped it in bacon.

“Hey, that's a hoax!” Russian man objects. “You have failed!”

“Well, your turn!” Japanese man and the American man grin.

Russian man, without thinking twice, takes the jar and smears mustard under the cat’s tail. It, of course, immediately starts to lick mustard, trying to get it off. Cat licks and licks, even though she is yowling.

“Do you see that?!” - Russian man rejoices “Voluntarily and with a song!”

"You have an interesting taste in jokes, Myshonok." corners of Fyodor lips slightly raised up. On the background, Nikolai and Pushkin were howling with laughter.

Actually, everyone was at least smirking. Even Natsume look a little bit amused.

Francis scoffed.

He was making sure, that Ningguang and Pantalone will rot in slums.

And, it was a good thing, that no one would be able to help them.

______

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters

[ladylooch]

Cups and Cradles - [Timo x Emma]

A/N: Our sweet Livy girl coming to fruition. I love this. Laughable that Timo thought they could go months without each other 🙄 Thankfully he is married to Emma.

Word Count: 4.3k

Emma Meier considers herself a good wife. 

She loves her husband, takes care of him, and offers support when things are going haywire in his life. She birthed a baby for him, designed a house that they both love, and dutifully attends a majority of his home games.

But this shit, she did not sign up for.

Inside their master bathroom, Emma smoothes on her night time skin cream, asking herself how she is going to get through who knows how many weeks of this crap.

The crap? No sex until playoffs are over- Stanley Cup or not. With how dominating the Devils were in their first series, she has legitimate concerns hopes that the Devils will reach the Stanley Cup finals. This means she has weeks, maybe months, left of no dick. With that realization, Emma sighs heavily, arms slapping the sides of her thighs. She glances into the bedroom at her nightstand where her various vibrators sit. 

They’re just not the same. 

She puts her robe back on it’s hook by the shower, then pads into their bedroom. She has to hold in the moan at how damn sexy her husband looks with their son sleeping on his chest. Timo rests propped up with several pillows behind his back. On his chest, Lio sleeps soundly in dinosaur pajamas, little lips pulled open into an oval. He’s been out for awhile. They have been good about Lio sleeping in his bed lately, but the little boy is getting over a stomach bug that required a lot more daddy snuggles than usual. 

Beneath Lio, her husband is shirtless, grey sweatpants resting low on his hips. The band of his underwear lays flat against his muscular abdomen, stretching the words Calvin Klein across his skin in a way that makes Emma want to sink to her knees. In Timo’s hands is a small iPad. He casts game film onto the large TV in front of their bed. His eyes are focused, examining the play again as he rewinds the footage. 

Emma’s brown orbs narrow at his lack of attention to her. She’s in silk, ivory pajamas. Her skimpy tank top dips low over her cleavage and her nipples perk from the soft fabric brushing them. The shorts barely cover her ass, which she makes sure he realizes as she leans down to gather Lio into her arms.

“No.” Timo pouts, but allows her take him.

“You’ll have plenty of time with him this week.” Emma reminds him as Timo kisses Lio’s head for a final time that night. The Devils are the only team done with their series and it’s likely they won’t be back in game play for over 7 days while the other series finishes. 

Emma saunters out of the room, but steals a look at her husband who has his eyes glued to her ass. When he sees she caught him looking, he grins and shrugs, then goes back to game tape with a smug face. Emma sighs. Damn him. Damn his rules. Damn him for putting on those pants that he knows drive her crazy! Never mind that she did the same thing with these pajamas.

Emma lays Lio down in his bed, smoothing his hair down and tucking him in for the night. His little lips flutter in a sleepy sigh. His fingers reach out for something, curling into his blanket. Emma holds her breath until she is sure he is going to stay asleep. Then she carefully tip toes from the room. 

As she comes up on their bedroom door, she slows her pace. Peeking in, Timo is where she left him. His left hand muses at his bottom lip as his gaze drags across the TV. The starkness of his wedding ring on his finger has wetness pooling in Emma’s core. All of that gorgeous man is hers. Forever. 

Wordlessly, Emma continues into the room. She stops at the end of the bed, slightly blocking the TV he is so interested in tonight. He does a double take at her, blue gaze darkening when he sees the wanting so clearly etched into her face. Timo’s fingers click the iPad to go dark, causing the TV behind her to turn black. He slowly puts the iPad on his nightstand, then looks at Emma with his hands braced on his big thighs. 

Emma presses her palms on the expensive bedding she picked out a few weeks ago, then she drags one knee up. Timo licks his lips, eyes drinking her in like he’s starving the way she is too. She drags her other knee up, then places the final palm on the bed so she is on all fours. When she begins to crawl, Timo’s eyes close in defeat.

“Fuck.”

“You? Yeah I’m going to.” 

Emma continues to crawl up his spread legs. The closer she gets, the more his cock swells in his sweatpants. Emma hovers over his lap, then leans forward, maintaining eye contact as she presses her lips to his thin happy trail. She runs her tongue along it, flat, like she would if it was his cock, then kisses up the ridges of his abdomen. Emma’s hands stay on either side of his hips, careful not to touch him any way except with her mouth.

Timo can’t keep his hands to himself. From above her, he runs his fingers through her hair, resting that big hand on the back of her neck to hold her in her next kiss. She sucks his skin into her mouth, worming her tongue along the pinkening slice of abdomen. 

“You look like you need something big in that mouth.” His voice is gravely, low, dangerous, the way he gets when he’s incredibly turned on. Emma smirks then kisses over the tent in his sweatpants.

“But baby, no sex during the playoffs?” Emma pouts dramatically at him, pressing her breasts together with her biceps so he can see the deep canyon of her cleavage from above. When he doesn’t answer, Emma puts her mouth back on his happy trail, allowing her tongue to graze the waistband of his underwear. Timo sighs in exasperation, trying not to moan as she keeps working her lips over him.

But Timo Meier is only a mortal man. 

And somehow, his right hand gathers a boob into it. He massages her breast gently until her nipple reveals it’s self again. Then he scrapes the edge of his pointer finger along the perky tip, flicking it for good measure. As he does that, Emma peels the waistband of his pants away. Timo’s cock flaps out against his abdomen, taut and ready to be buried in whatever hole his wife will give him. Emma continues her teasing, bringing her open mouth close to his cock, but not touching it. Instead, she kisses around it with wet, sucking kisses that make his shaft throb and tighten every time she raises her mouth.

“Babe.” Timo groans. His weakness for her is throwing any reservations on this to the wind. 

He is a weak, weak man.

“Put it in your mouth or I’ll do it for you.” Timo snaps at her when she runs just the tip of her tongue on the cleft of his head.

“This is your rule. You break it.” She challenges. Call Emma a control freak, she doesn’t care. But damn does she love watching her husband lose it for her. 

Emma stays perched on her knees, mouth wide open, tongue out and flat, brown eyes boring into his until Timo moves his hand. He grips the base of his shaft then slaps his swollen tip against her tongue. He glides his head up her wet muscle until it disappears behind her teeth. Emma collects him at the back of her throat, then she shoves his hand away to choke on his cock like the good wife he deserves. A tortured groan squeezes from Timo’s throat as her hand works him over too. 

“Oh. Baby, that feels incredible.” He praises her. “Mmm, you miss sucking on this, huh?” He asks her, pressing her head gently down him more. Emma breathes through the gag, then drags her mouth up him excruciatingly slow. As she does this, her tongue laps at the underside of his shaft. Timo gathers her hair up so he can watch her mouth work him over. His hips start listing up into her mouth. Emma can feel his hand shaking to resist fucking her mouth too hard. 

He only lets her do this for a few minutes, long enough that they both get enjoyment from it, but not long enough that he explodes.

“Off. I am not coming in your mouth.” He pulls Emma off his cock with a firm grip on her hair. Emma’s eyes widen excitedly. He chuckles knowingly, appreciating how hot it is that she likes to be handled roughly. 

Timo reaches his hands out to help her crawl up to him. Then he kisses her mouth deeply, threading his fingers through her hair lovingly this time. Their tongues connect. Timo sucks on her top lip, then presses her hips down to rest on his cock laying attentively on his stomach. Emma rolls her hips, dragging the silk of her shorts along his erection until he gets fed up and pulls her up so she kneels over him on all fours. 

Timo’s hands come to her shorts. He ignores the bow on them, deciding that will take too long. Instead, he grips the waistband, ripping them down her thighs so he can bury his fingers in her core. He fucks her harshly, her wetness coating his fingers while the noise takes over the room. 

Emma’s breathing hitches as his fingers curl up, playing with velvety walls.

“Fuck.” Emma hisses. Her head drops back to the ceiling and she smiles happily. This feels so damn good with him. Perfect. Exactly what she needed. With her eyes closed, she feels Timo nudge her nipple over the silk camisole. She wraps her hand around the back of his head, holding him there as he sucks it through the thin material. Emma arches against his fingers and he grins.

“Needy as fuck.” Her face snaps back to his, glaring.

“Yeah! I’ve been without you for so long.”

“It’s been two weeks, babe.” He laughs against her wet shirt. He pulls back, pushing the fabric up to get her bare nipple. His tongue probes it, tracing the bumps around it until his lips enclose the sensitive bud. Emma moans, loudly, then begins to pant as he works his fingers in the perfect rhythm with his mouth. Then his thumb drags across her clit. 

“Mmm.” Emma sighs to him, pressing her hips down onto his hand. Just as she feels herself about to explode, Timo stops. “No!” She cries. 

“I need to be inside of you. You feel way too good right now.” Timo insists. 

“That was so mean.” Emma whines as his fingers slide out of her. 

“I’ll make it up to you.” He murmurs. Emma rolls to the side. She wraps her hand around his cock, stroking it a few times then leaning forward to suck on his swollen head again. Timo’s hand comes under her chin, pulling her off. “Get up here.”

Dutifully, Emma wiggles her pajama bottoms the rest of the way off her legs, then she crawls on top of Timo, ass facing him for reverse cowgirl. This way he’ll fill her the fullest, especially when his hand pushes into her stomach like… that. 

Emma and Timo groan in unison as she slides down him completely. She stays there for a moment, rolling her hips forward and back, letting that fullness consume her senses until she can’t stand it anymore. Then she lifts and slams back down him. Her ass bounces against the V of his tight abdomen. He meets her thrust the next time she does this, causing an electric surge to go through her body. Goosebumps break out on her arms. Emma grips the edge of her camisole, taking it off in one swoop and tossing it to the floor. 

Her hands move in front of her between Timo’s spread legs. Then she curls her legs closer to his body to give herself the most leverage. 

“Oh my god.” Timo moans. His large hands come to her ass, spreading her cheeks apart to watch her pussy swallow him with each downward thrust. “Baby.” He groans this time. Emma can hear his head hit the headboard as he leans back. She looks over her shoulder at him, grinning at his blissed out look. His hands slide from her ass to her hips, feeling the way she rolls and presses down on his cock. He cups her waist puling her back onto him, wide fingers spreading out along her stomach. She moves his right hand towards her belly button, pressing in. 

Emma works herself back on his cock harder, faster than she can remember doing with him before. She reaches back to hold an ass cheek up as Timo presses more into her stomach. The girth of him has her tempo faltering for a moment.

“Oh fuck. Fuck… oh…” Emma pants, then shakes as she comes undone. Her orgasm rips through her, almost taking Timo with her.

But he still owes her one. 

Once, she slows her bucks back onto him, Timo holds her in place for a moment, so he can get on his knees. Then he gently drags himself out of her. 

“The mess you just made on my cock.” He smirks.

Timo drags his head through her slit, teasing her. Emma feels the mess collect there, then he pushes back into her and she sees stars. Timo wraps a hand around her stomach, rolling her clit as they begin their climb again. He’s gentle, knowing she’s sensitive, but wanting her to build fast. He’s still just a man after all. And his wife knows all the ways to tease him. Like she is right now, purposefully fluttering her walls around him.

Emma can tell when her husband has had about enough of that. His hand twirling her clit gets faster. His hips pump deeper and harsher into her and her body weight is forced deep into the mattress. Emma lays there, letting him use her, feeling the delicious build. The waves lap at her body, making her warm, loose. She enjoys the climb this time, barely able to moan out her pleasure as Timo fucks her hard, fast, fully, just like she needs. 

Timo releases her hip, leaning forward to run his hand along her forearm. Then he tangles the fingers of their left hands together. As his thumb strums her clit harder, Emma squeezes his fingers. 

“That good, baby?” Timo grunts into her ear. 

“Yeah.”

“You gonna come for me?”

“Yeah!” She whimpers.

Timo kisses her cheek, collapsing down more for long thrusts into her pussy. Emma wails out his name, then comes hard around his cock. Timo pushes jerky thrusts through her second orgasm then fills his wife up like he promised. When Emma recovers, she pushes her hips back into him to keep his cock buried inside of her. Timo noses her shoulder, then plumps his lips along her shoulder blade. 

“Worth it?” Emma whispers to him, walls still fluttering around him, making him wince from the sensitivity.

“You always are, baby.”

Emma smiles, then lays forward as he slides from her core. She crosses her legs while Timo lays back, putting a big paw on her bare ass. He wiggles it in his grasp, then sighs happily. His fingers keep rubbing over her butt, lulling her further into her happy, blissful state. Emma can still feel the comforting heat of his cum inside of her as she rolls over to her back. Her gaze connects with the glass of water on her nightstand. She sits up, then takes big sip before hurrying herself across the floor to the bathroom. 

It isn’t until she is cleaning Timo’s cum out from between her thighs that she remembers the other reason they were waiting until after playoffs. She walks to the bathroom door, looking out at Timo who lays in bed, still naked, with his eyes closed.

“I’m not on any birth control.” Emma murmurs. 

“Oh fuck.” Timo starts to laugh, remembering as she does her appointment to remove her IUD two weeks ago. After the season officially ended, they were going to start trying. Getting pregnant now would be a huge distraction down the stretch. Emma cringes, then chuckles.

“Forgot about that…” She tosses the towel she had been using into their laundry hamper. 

“I doubt you’ll get pregnant after one time.”

Emma gives him a ‘really’ look then points toward their son’s room.

“To be fair that was three times.”

“Yeah, back when you used to love me.” Emma pouts, climbing into bed with him.

“You can do it, baby. We all gotta sacrifice for the cup.”

For the second time that night, Emma can’t remember why she signed up for this shit.

- - -

Despite the constant presence of nausea, Emma Meier could not be happier as she watches the final 15 seconds of the game trickle down. The Devils are up 4-2 after an empty netter by Jack Hughes. The Stanley Cup returning to Jersey is imminent. Emma stands with her son in her hands, trying not to lose it completely as the whole Devils bench rises, bouncing excitedly.

5 seconds now. Emma cheers loudly with her sister-in-law, Lexi, who proudly stands next to her. The two women look at each other, both obviously crying as their husbands mutual dream comes true below. 

The final horn sounds. 

Prudential Center is electric. The cheering raises the hair on Emma’s arms as she bounces Lio gently but excitedly in her hands. He laughs loudly, cupping his little hands over his ear protection. 

Next time they are in this building, Emma will be considerably more pregnant. 

She found out close to two weeks ago, right before the Stanley Cup Finals began. Timo doesn’t know. Emma didn’t want to distract him with any of this before the biggest series of his career. Not when he has worked so hard for this. With this being her second pregnancy, Emma knows what to worry about and everything has been fine. Except the sickness she’s had the last four days. She could do without that. Timo hasn’t seemed to notice her frequent trips to the bathroom. But he has been a hockey machine and trying to rest to nurse his several nagging injuries.

Emma and Lexi stay in place for the celebration and the ceremony. Emma almost sobs so hard she throws up when her brother lifts that Cup. Indescribable, that’s how she will explain it to him later. She knows how hard their family has worked, the sacrifices, the way they all showed up for him over the years. All of that effort is what helps Nico thrust that glorious silver cup into the air. She yells back like his screams are for her then turns to the left to hug both of her parents.

Damn, this day is wrecking her. 

She turns back to the ice in time to watch her brother skate his lap. He comes closer to them, thrusting it even higher, yelling louder. The whole group screams back at him. Emma wraps an arm around Lexi, squeezing her tight with their babies in their other arms. The two women hold each other through Timo getting the cup too. Then the group ignites wildly again. Lio tries to hide his face from the excitement. Emma kisses his head, then softly coos in Swiss German for him to look at Daddy. 

Timo’s grin as he looks up at them, the Cup over his head, is an image Emma will never forget. All their dreams coming true in this moment. A Cup, a healthy baby, happily married with another one on the way.

Suddenly, the secret she has kept from him for two weeks, feels impossible to hold. She wants to tell him. Now.

With her family, including Timo’s parents and Larissa, Emma heads down to the ice with the rest of the Devils family members. They all chat excitedly, barely able to hold back for the rest of the laps before the doors open and the carpets are rolled out. Lexi takes off first, rushing over the red carpet to leap into Nico’s arms. He catches her effortlessly.

Emma’s approach to Timo is more cautious with the precious cargo she carries.

“I can take Lio?” Her dad offers in Swiss German as her mom is loaded down with a tired Lucie.

“No, I want to bring him to T.” She tells her dad.

Emma steps onto the carpet laid over the ice, smiling at Timo who immediately clocks his wife and child. She hugs Lio closer to her, carefully continuing forward towards him. Timo slows down on the ice next to her.

“Hi Timo Meier, Stanley Cup champion.” Emma greets him with a huge, teary grin. Then her and Lio are in his arms. Tears splash out onto Timo’s jersey, not that anyone would notice with how wet it already is. 

“You won!” Lio giggles to his dad. “Puck!” He hands Timo the puck he flipped his son from warm ups. It now has Emma’s writing on it. She wasn’t sure exactly how to tell him, but once the puck hit Lio’s hands earlier, she knew this was it. She just needed Timo to win in order for it to be perfect.

Timo Meier, Stanley Cup Champion, Husband, Father of 2!

Timo tilts his head as he reads it, then snaps his gaze to his wife. His blue eyes are widened like saucers. For a man who refused to come in her mouth weeks ago, he sure looks shocked at how his wife could be carrying his child again.

“Wait, what? How!?” 

“We can recreate it later.” She smirks. Timo pauses, then connects the dots. 

“No… baby, but how?”

“You insisted on not coming in my mouth, remember? About 6 weeks ago?”

“I….okay that’s on me.” He takes Lio from her and gives him a smooch. “6 weeks… you been keeping this from me?” Emma nods her head. 

“You had a few other priorities, no?” Timo scoffs.

“You know where you lie in all of this.” Again, Emma nods; she’s number one. She reaches for Lio, smoothing his jersey back down his body where it had ridden up against Timo’s equipment. Nervously, her hands reach for her husband next, stepping closer again so she can whisper to him.

“Are you happy?” Emma asks, unsure. Her fingers hold the back of his neck to keep them close. He looks at her and she’s got tears in her eyes. Even though she knows this time is different, old feelings from this moment with Lio are right there below the surface, making her stomach bubbly. 

“Wha- yes, Em. Of course I am!” He chuckles. A hand comes to her cheek so he can hold her face close to his and kiss her. “I’ve been wanting this. So much. You know that.” Emma nods then presses their lips together. It’s a soft, sweet kiss they never want to end. 

“We have a baby!” Lio cheers. Timo cups Lio’s head against his shoulder to quiet the announcement from reaching outside their little huddle.

“Our baby, huh?” Timo smiles, leaning down to kiss Emma again. “I love you. So much. So lucky to do this all over again with you.”

Suddenly, Emma is snatched from Timo’s arms by the Devils captain. Nico lifts his sister up, twirling her around as her husband frantically gasps.

“Hey, Hey, HEY! Nico, put her down!”

Emma cuts Timo with a look as Nico puts her back on her boots.

“It’s fine, T.” Emma assures her cranky husband. Emma wraps her arms around Nico’s shoulders to hug him. His long brown hair flops in front of his face as he hugs her deeply. “I am so proud of you.” She tells her little brother. “But who do you think you are laying out to block shots like that?” She asks, pulling away and shoving at his chest. 

“I don’t know.” Nico answers honestly with a laugh. “Lee! Come see me!” Nico turns his attention to the boy in Timo’s arms. Lio practically dives into Nico’s chest. With free hands now, Timo comes to his wife, wrapping her into a tight hug. The smell is triggering to Emma who pats his back for him to let her go.

“I love you so much, but you stink.” 

“Here we go again.” Timo teases her, rolling his eyes. But when he looks back at his wife, he’s drowning in obvious love.

Another baby is joining their perfect world. Timo is a Stanley Cup champion now. What else could this little family want?

Emma glances over to where Lexi is returning to the ice with Lucie. She’s got little pom poms in her pony tail and adorable red boots on her feet with black leggings and a tiny Devils jersey. Lucie reaches for her uncle Timo when she sees him. Lexi and Emma line the two hockey players up with the kids, snapping pictures of them together. 

Seeing her husband with their niece, Emma can’t help but ask the universe for one more thing: a baby girl.

Read more Timo and Emma here.

[thebowieconstricker]

Stagedoor Sparks! (Matthew Patel x Reader) ✨🔥🔱

masterlist link

AN: OH MY GOODNESS YOU GUYS WERE FEELING THIS ONE OKAY-

I’m so glad to see people hyped up for my pathetic pirate boy. Please enjoy and if this goes well I may turn it into a series lol

We’ve got a gender neutral reader, idiots in love, I saw someone say pathetic x pathetic and YES, theater kid lingo, mild swearing, and your favorite cutie pie. ⚠️Also, this is heavily based on Scott Pilgrim Takes Off, so spoiler warnings for that if you haven’t seen it! ⚠️ Enjoy!

“Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Musical”, was what the bright lights of the massive sign on your local theater boasted. Recently, your coworker Julie had been telling you about the ridiculous life of this ‘Scott Pilgrim’, ranting about the conga line of characters that filled his (frankly, pathetic sounding) existence. She had also alerted you to this… musical. A musical that had been written about his life.

You sighed to yourself and adjusted your bag. Making your way to the golden, elaborately designed doors, just barely dodging all the paparazzi (why was there so much paparazzi?), you somehow successfully made your way into the main lobby of the theatre. Ivory and gold filled your vision as you observed the plush red carpet that lined each of the three floors. You had visited this theater before, and it’s gorgeous grandeur never failed to amaze you.

Now, you did not at all care about this guy. Yes, you had been silently internalizing every minuscule part of this random guy’s daily shenanigans, but that was because you were being a good friend to Julie! This Scott guy seemed like a tool, and you weren't particularly interested in listening to a…?

You checked the playbill the usher had just handed you.

…THREE HOUR MUSICAL?!? You almost started laughing right there.

But anyways, you weren’t here for this Scott guy.

You were here for musical theater. You had always been drawn to the fantastical world of lights and costumes and music. Plus, this was a community production with actors from Toronto, and you were always happy to support your local theater kids.

As you finally made your way to your seat, you sat down in the plush red chairs and opened your playbill to the cast section. You didn’t see any names you recognized, but one stood out to you.

Matthew Patel - Scott Pilgrim

Obviously, Scott Pilgrim was the lead role, but what really caught your attention was the picture attached to the name. Matthew Patel, you respectfully observed, was mad cute.

The lights suddenly began to dim and you settled in for whatever was in store, keeping a keen eye out for this ‘Matthew Patel’.

~~~ Holy shit, this is the best thing you’ve ever seen.

From the moment Matthew Patel walked onstage, you were absolutely smitten. He wore a bright orange wig that clashed horrendously with his dark skin, and an oversized jacket, but he was the hottest thing you had ever seen. Also, holy shit, Matthew Patel could sing. From the first line, you were completely enraptured by his high tenor belting. As you watched him onstage, you saw literal sparks in his eyes, his excitement and passion for the stage radiating off of him.

At the curtain call, you stood and enthusiastically clapped for each of the cast members, but hooped and hollered for Matthew especially. Even though you knew he couldn’t see you from the stage, you found yourself blushing at the thought of him looking at you.

That’s when it hit you: You’ve gotta book it to stage door to meet this guy.

~~~ Matthew Patel was completely exhausted. As the curtains flew closed, he sighed and turned around to smile at his cast mates. Although he was drained by his performance, he always took this opportunity at the end of a show to look to his fellow caste mates.

And hopefully someone would invite him with their group to an after show dinner.

He walked through the crowd, giving pats on the back and thumbs ups as he made his way to his dressing room. Lots of smiles, lots of “great job!”’s but… no invitations.

Slamming the door to his room he quickly took of his wig and put on his regular clothes, deciding that he would take off his stage makeup at home (aka the makeup he regularly wore but no one cared enough to know that). His room had a window where he could look down at the stagedoor line, the line that had been non-existent since opening night. He didn’t take it personally, since this musical was for a very specific audience of people and he understood that outside of them, no one knew or cared who Scott Pilgrim was. But still, he was onstage. He was singing and dancing and his art was being celebrated. Yes, he was lonely, still, but life wasn’t too bad right now.

As he did every day, he quickly glanced out his window to check for audience members at stage door and, sure enough, no one-

Wait-

Someone was there?

He did a double take and physically walked to the window, his hands placed against the glass and his now quickening breath creating a fog.

SOMEONE WAS THERE??!?!?

From high up in his dressing room, he saw a small figure holding the bright red playbill of his show. They seemed to be moving back and forth on their feet, bouncing excitedly. From so high up he couldn’t see their expression, but could make out what he thought was a smile.

He broke out into a wide smile. Running around his room, gathering his things and throwing them into his backpack, only one thought raced through his mind: He had to get down there.

~~~ As you waited, the cold Toronto air stung against your flushed cheeks. You were still high on endorphins from the show, the songs already worming their way into your head as you tapped your feet in anticipation.

Suddenly, and without warning, a man burst out of the dark black door you were waiting out, out of breath and panting. He was so hellbent on running out the door that he ran right into you, knocking you over!

“AH-“, you both made the same sound as you fell, the man directly on top of you.

“Oh- apologies, ma’am, I uh-“

You would have said a number of rude things to this man but, seeing his face, you were starstruck.

“Matthew Patel?”

His eyes widened in shock. Carefully, he got off of you and onto his knee in front of you. Gently, he took your hand and pulled you up, the both of you now back on your feet.

“You know me?”

You couldn’t help but notice the faint blush on his cheeks.

“Of course! Well- I mean, you know, you’re Scott Pilgrim! You were absolutely incredible up there, just amazing! My jaw was the floor the whole time! I mean, your voice and your dancing and the fight scenes-“

As you rambled on and on, Matthew was unable to snap himself out of the trance you had put him in. Visually, you were breathtaking, so much so he didn’t know how he had ever found anyone else attractive. But more so, you were genuinely complimenting him. He was never complimented on his theater work. He’d get the rare one from his cast mates, but never an outside fan.

Noticing his silence, you suddenly stopped talking.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to rant, it’s just- one theater kid to another, you were so amazing.”

He shook his head at your apology. “No, don’t be sorry. You’re- you’re very kind. Thank you. And I’m sorry again for… running you over.”

You laughed- a leitmotif to rival Sondheims to Matthew’s ears- and looked at him with a goofy grin.

“Would you sign my playbill?”

“Would you like to have dinner tonight?”

The two of you spoke at the same time, and one’s question made the other blush furiously. Matthew’s entire body tensed in embarrassment that he had been bold enough to ask you out like this, not even knowing your name.

You were absolutely over the moon.

“I- uh- yes. Yes, I would love to.”

Your smile got impossibly wider, and the sparks in Matthew’s eyes that you had noted during his performance returned. With a huge grin, he reached out his hand to take your playbill. You handed it to him and a marker appeared in his other hand as he quickly scribbled his signature.

“What’s your name?”

You told him and his blush deepened. He turned back to the playbill and scribbled a bit more, then handed it to you. You squeaked in excitement and looked at what he had written.

To my biggest fan,

(Y/N)

Looking back up at him, you were certain this was the start of something new.

“So… do you like Italian?”

~~~ HEY MATTHEW FANS TAKE THIS FIC! GO, FETCH! This’ll make a lot more sense if you like musicals, so have fun! Like I said at the start, if y’all want more and I’m feeling up to it, I’ll write more! Happy holidays, folks!

[ticktockstuck-ezodiac]

COLUVI Sign of the Pertinacious

COL(U)* = Ivory Sign • *VI = Prospit + Pride

◈≫༻──◇──◇──༺≪◈≫༻──◇──◇──༺≪◈

#784: The sign of the stubborn, who can be offered bounties but who will not take them freely. A master of the now but not the present, content to contemplate what they already have.

Production commentary: Another Tarot sign today! Out of 78 cards in a Tarot deck we've got the Four of Cups, largely inspired by its Rider-Waite art. The design here is a reference to the hand presenting a chalice to a young man, too fixated on the collection he already has to notice the potential being offered to him.

◈≫༻──◇──◇──༺≪◈≫༻──◇──◇──༺≪◈

Ivory Signs • Pridebound Signs • Prospit Signs

[freshbakedbreadstick]

A Game of Confession - Terzo x Reader

Papa Emeritus III “Terzo” x Reader

Summary: Terzo attempts to forgive you of your “sins”.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. Reader is described gender neutrally but has a vagina. Mentions of vaginal fingering, lots of catholic imagery, ghost worldbuilding lore, mutual masturbation, edging, blowjobs, unprotected PIV (use protection irl folks!), creampies, slight breeding talk, dirty talk, Terzo talking you through it because his blabber mouth would, lots of yearning, established relationship, roleplaying innocence and confession if that makes sense, messy n wet, slight coercion, forced orgasms, glove kink/play, use of his title of Papa, degradation, name calling, rough play, hair pulling, overstimulation n post orgasm torture, very mild pain play, everything is consensual! Self indulgent PWP basically LOL not sorry ! 

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: For the wonderful anon who wrote to me AGES ago abt writing some stuff for ghost . . .  I GOT U BABY I NEVER FORGOT U ! Anyways my catholic religious trauma absolutely came in clutch for this little work that i randomly got inspired to write ,  regrettably so LOLLLL anyways this is self indulgent as HELL bc terzo was my papa when i became a fan of the band and i miss him SO MUCH anyways enjoy besties ! 

The heels of your shoes clicked and echoed throughout the church as you approached the center aisle of the entrance. It was dark, the sun having since set that evening, leaving the stained glass windows to look as if they were covered in a sheen of ink. 

The only lights that illuminated the enormous church were the thousands of candles carefully lit by the sisters of sin who cared for the church. The outside ivory wax melted, exposing the red wax core and allowing it to bleed down the many candelabras and candle holders spread across the statues and tables within the nave. 

You paused for a second, looking out into the dimly lit darkness, feeling yourself shiver from an invisible chill that spread goosebumps across your skin. The church would feel unnerving if you weren’t as devoted to it.

With a quick sign of the unholy cross, you turned and tugged the black lace of your mantilla veil as you moved down the aisle, looking at the dark tiles of the floor as you moved. You turned sharply, weaving through the pews to glance at the dark wood of the confessional booth, tucked into the farthest side of the church and away from the altar in the center back of the whole building. 

You paused to look at the light within the booth, on the side where your papa sits. You can see the outline of him in the flicking light, a shadow casted on the woven wood of the door as he sat there, waiting. 

With a swallow sigh, you slowly approached the dark side of the booth, where the sinner would sit, carefully turning the brass knob to open it. The wood creaked loudly, making you flinch as it echoed throughout the lonely church. 

Automatically, your feet shifting inside the wooden booth to sit on the velvet covered chair that greeted your vision moments prior. The door slowly shut behind you, clicking quietly.

You wrapped an arm around yourself as you shifted on the seat, looking at the kneeling bench in front of you. The silk of your robe provided you soft comfort as you glanced at the braided wooden screen that separated you from your papa and obscured him from vision.

You didn’t realize you were breathing so raggedly until you heard him chuckle, “Breathe, my sweet, breathe…”

The smoothness of his voice made you jump for a second, the familiarity creating a rush of heat through your body. With wide eyes, your body moved automatically, shifting to turn on the gas of a small lantern attached to the side of the bench, igniting the small flickering flame to allow you to see your side of the booth better. 

You hiked up your robe and shifted to kneel at the bench, the soft velvet caressing your bare skin as you did so. The words came out of you, just as quickly as you were breathing earlier, “Forgive me father, for I have sinned…”

It was quiet as you sat there, chest rising and falling as you stared at the screen for anything, any noise or any reaction to your words. Your heart pounded in your chest as you took in the grains of the black wood, waiting. 

“Is that so?” You heard him whisper, voice rumbling. 

You nodded eagerly, forgetting that he couldn’t see you as you put your hands together in prayer.

“I… I have sinned in so many ways, Papa… please… forgive me…” you whispered, voice quivering.

“Tell me.”

Your breath caught in your throat. 

“Tell me your sins, my sweet, and I shall forgive you.”

You could feel your body shaking as you knelt there, making the wood of the bench creak beneath you. Your voice had been caught in your throat, rendering you silent as your mouth opened but nothing came out. 

He could sense your speechlessness, shifting closer to the screen to speak. You did the same, hearing the creaking on his side as a signal for you to come closer, your lips inches away from the divider in front of you. 

He spoke, softly. Soft enough to send a shiver down your spine. 

“My sweet… tell me… tell your Papa how you have made him proud…” 

“Papa…” You murmured weakly, “Forgive me for what I have done.”

You felt your lips brush against the wood as you spoke, making you inhale sharply, “I have pleased The Olde One so very much so with my sins… will you ever forgive me Papa?” 

You could hear the grin in his voice, “What is it that you did, my sweet? How is it that you have pleased him?” 

His breath fanned over the braided wood to your side, making you gasp softly as you felt it against your lips. He was close, so close to you at that moment. If that screen wasn’t there, your lips would be inches apart and your eyes would be locked together.

“Papa…” you said weakly, your voice shaking. You were suddenly aware of the silk robe wrapped around your body, the once comfortable fabric becoming too tight, too soft, and too overwhelming in an instant. 

“Tell me…” he whispered, “Tell me how you were a good little sinner for your Papa…” With a shuddered breath, you closed your eyes, knuckles pale as you gripped the bench, “Papa… I… last night I made myself cum with you on my mind…”

You couldn’t see it, but Terzo was on his knees, gripping his side of the bench with white knuckles. His fingernails dug into the wood, pushing dents into it as he eagerly awaited you to continue your words. He was holding his breath, glaring into the screen as if that would make it disappear so he could finally see you.

He could picture the way your bottom lip jutted out as you whispered your confession, eyes wide and trembling as you knelt with your hands together, uttering his title. 

Just like how he liked to see you.

“I couldn’t help it, Papa, I swear! The ache… it came back and it hurt so bad… i needed to do something, it felt like torture to just sit there and read my unholy prayer book!” You cried out, voice getting louder as you continued, “I told myself I would only take a second, it will be quick, but I spent hours teasing myself with my hand, imagining it was you instead…”

With a sob, you slumped against the bench, “My fingers weren’t enough to pretend it was you, but I cried out your name as I came anyways…”

Terzo could feel his body heating up with every one of your words. One of his hands immediately went down to palm himself through his pants, hissing quietly as his hand made contact with his clothed but aching cock. 

But it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough for him in the same way that it wasn’t enough for you. 

The ache, the same ache you described, burned him. It made his cock leak into his briefs, leaving a wet stain on them where the tip pressed against the rough fabric. It made him wince as he became hyper aware of how the now scratchy briefs shifted against his sensitive skin, as he took in ragged breaths. 

His eyes shifted down to glance at his hand, unconsciously gripping his shaft, swallowing harshly as he held himself back from bucking into his hand. 

“Tesoro…” he choked out, voice deep and gravely, “Tell me how you pleasured yourself…”

On the other side of the screen, you gasped. 

“But Papa…! That’s… that’s vulgar-”

“Tell me amore, tell me… if you don’t tell me the whole truth, I cannot forgive you…”

You could feel your lips twisting into a smirk, listening to his wavering voice. You couldn’t help but flutter your lashes as your hands quickly moved to push between the opening of the robe, fingertips hitting the skin of your stomach with eagerness. Your thighs were beginning to become uncomfortably sticky with your arousal by then as you dripped, remembering the other night when you stuffed yourself full of your fingers, crying out into the darkness of your candlelit room.

“Tell your papa what you did…”

You could hear the desperation in his voice, the straining he had to do to not break the stupid wooden screen and grab at your right then and there. 

“Oh papa…” you began, shifting to make your voice sickeningly sweet, “I couldn’t take it anymore… I just had to slide my clothes off and bring my fingers down to rub at my aching clit…”

Terzo groans, so loudly that it feels like the whole confessional shook.

You bit down on your bottom lip, holding back a chuckle. Your hand had begin to slide down your stomach, slowly and carefully toward where you needed it the most. 

“Then? Tell me tesoro, tell me please…”

He was begging now. It was just too easy to get him like this. 

“I rubbed in small circles around it, pinching and squeezing. I would tease myself papa… teasing by slipping my fingers down to gather the wetness I made and use it to slide back up and around myself…” you whimpered, glaring at the screen. 

He let out a strangled groan, the sound of clothing rustling makes you perk up, “Papa?”

Your fingers had stilled, just barely grazing over your clit, throbbing between your legs. Your body was on fire, desperate for any kind of stimulation.

The light on his side suddenly was extinguished, leaving you in partial darkness as your own lantern barely illuminated your side. 

“Papa?” 

Rustling and the creaking of wood was all you heard as you knelt there. 

“Papa is everything-” 

The sound of his door scraping open was all you heard, making your voice trail off. He was silent, shifting around and exiting his side of the booth, the door swinging shut with a click.

You slowly got up, knees aching a bit and legs shaking as you turned to look at your own door.

Your eyes were trained on the brass knob, watching it jiggle a bit before it slowly began to turn. You panted softly, staring as it shifted with a calculated slowness. You couldn’t even move as you watched, frozen in place as it turned and finally stopped turning. 

Within seconds, the sight, sound, smell, touch, and taste of your Papa invaded your senses.

He shoved through the door, pushing himself into the already small section of your booth to shove his body against yours. The door had clicked shut, long forgotten by the time his mouth was on your own, making you moan into him. 

One of his hands raced to your face, cupping it with a gentleness that made your heart soar, while the other went down to roughly yank at the knot holding your robe shut. 

“Fuck this game,” he murmured as he pulled back, dual toned eyes locking with yours, “Fuck it all.”

Before you could laugh, he pushed his lips back onto yours in a sloppy kiss and you felt your robe slip like water down your arms and into a forgotten heap on the floor around your ankles. 

You could only close your eyes in bliss, the messy gnashing of teeth and lips echoing in the small booth. Small whimpers escaped you on occasion, but a wide eyed muffled scream came soon after he shoved his hand between your legs, roughly parting them as his gloved hand came into contact with your clit.

You were too sensitive for the fabric, the cotton feeling too coarse against your sensitive clit. It rubbed small tight circles, similar to the ones you described to him, around your swollen bud, making your hips buck into his hand and body arch into his. 

As he pulled away with the taste of your saliva on his tongue, he tutted, “Take it, take it for your Papa…”

“Papa! Too sensitive!” you choked, legs quivering as you braced yourself against the wall, looking at him with half lidded eyes.

But he ignored you, too busy watching the way your hips were grinding against his gloved hand, both enjoying and running from the rough stimulation. His fingers were already becoming drenched with your juices, making him grin.

“You like making a mess of your Papa? You like to tease him?” he growled, bringing his sticky fingers to press against your entrance, rubbing around it to feel it clench around nothing.

You could only howl at his words, head thudding as you jerked it back against the wooden wall. “You beg for forgiveness, but this is how you do it? By teasing your Papa like a little bitch who has all the power?” he spit, eyes now trained on your face as he began to aggressively circle your hole, feeling it drool onto his glove. 

The hand cradling your face shifted toward your neck, large, warm, gloved fingers finding its spot around you and squeezing the sides with light pressure. You gasped out, gaze shifting from the roof back down to him. 

“Terzo!” you cried.

“No, I am not Terzo, amore… I am your Papa.” he barked, cupping your pussing with his hand. The heel of his palm rubbed deliciously against your clit, quickly drenching the fabric there too. You could only choke out a moan as his fingers at your entrance pushed in, stretching you with two of them. 

You were certain that you would’ve collapsed onto the floor if it wasn't for his hand around your neck and his body partially pinning you against the wall. Every muscle in your legs ached, begging to lay down or sit on his lap but you didn’t care anymore, the only thing that filled your senses was your Papa. 

The scent of candles and sex filled the stuffy little booth, grounding you enough to make you the tiniest bit aware of where you stood but not enough to distract you from the overwhelming feel of his wet glove against your cunt and his grip around your neck.

“You tease me, amore, you tease me so with these games you come up with,” he says, voice husky as he speaks lowly to you, eyeing you as if you were cornered pray in the woods, “Leave me throbbing and desperate for you… you like seeing me like this? Seeing your Papa so desperate and needy for you?”

You couldn’t respond, just crying out as his hand thrusted his fingers into you, letting the lewd squelching noise from your pussy reverberate within the room. He pushed them in, reveling in the feeling of your walls squeezing the soaked fabric as it rubbed deliciously against you. 

The dual combination of the rough fabric around the fingers he fucked you and on your sensitive clit made your knees snap together, but he was quick. The second your legs began to close, he shoved his own leg between them to hold them open once more, moving his hand feverishly in and out. 

“Tesoro… I need to feel you cum around my fingers…” he panted, the lantern on the floor casting heavy shadows across his face. 

You could only moan and cry out as you looked at him, eyes glazing over with pleasure as you felt your body succumbing to the pleasure, getting closer and closer to the edge as he curled his fingers to hit that spongy spot inside of you that made you feel like you were going to explode. 

“That’s it, amore, cum for your Papa. Cum around my fucking fingers, drench me.” he demanded, pressing his forehead against yours. 

You couldn’t take it anymore, crying out as you came around him, walls clenching with every wave of pleasure. His glove was soaked, the stickiness sticking onto him and your thighs with every thrust of his fingers. You hadn’t even registered that your hands were now gripping his biceps, fingers clawing at the fabric of his shirt with every arch of your back and buck of your hips. 

The pleasure that overwhelmed your senses, rolling up your body like an uncontrollable fire, was all you could perceive. It made your eyes roll to the back of your head and an uncontrollable grin spread across your face. 

You howled and whined as you came down, the slowing movements of his hand making you twitch with overstimulation. You babbled, slurring your words as you spoke, “Papa… s’too much… Terzo please… no more…”

Your vision blurred back just in time for you to watch and feel as Terzo’s hand inside you stilled, letting you ride through those tremble inducing aftershocks. 

His hand slowly unwrapped around your neck too, instead shifting to gently press his fingertips against your skin. His thumb gently ran over your neck, moving to your jaw before gathering the drool from the corners of your mouth to rub it over your bottom lip. He watched with sharp eyes, focused on how your bottom lip shined in the dim light. 

He pulled his hand away from your twitching cunt, making you whine and buck at the overwhelming feeling of the gloved hand shifting from your wet skin.

He chuckled, stepping back a bit to watch as you trembled, still gripping him and leaning against the wall to hold yourself up on your shaky legs. It was humiliating, watching the way he looked at you with a satisfied look on his face while you stood there, wrecked. 

But for him, it was torture. 

Torture to stand there and watch the way you drenched him as you came, calling his name out in the darkness. Torture to feel the way your pussy clenched around his fingers. Torture that his gloves separated him from feeling your soft, gummy walls against his skin. 

It was torture.

His hands moved to grip your waist, the sticky one making you whimper and shift away from it, but Terzo could only shush you as he dropped to his knees in front of you. 

With eyes wide, you realized what he was going to do.

“Terzo, no!” you cried, voice scratchy in your throat, “I’m too sensitive-!”

But it was too late, he already shoved himself between your legs and licked a stripe up your sensitive cunt.

“Papa!”

“Take it for me, amore,” he murmured, looking up at you as his lips attached themselves to your clit, sucking it without a care. 

You shrieked, pushing your chest up as you arched away from the wall. Your hands immediately moved to push his shoulders, to try and get him away. It was all too much, toe curlingly too much. 

You bucked, moaning and whining in the delicious torture as he slobbered over you, licking up your juices as if he discovered the elixir of life and was desperate for a taste. 

He groaned, sucking and licking you up, hands gripping your hips and holding you in place so you couldn't run away from him. 

“Terzo!” you cried, hips jerking for one final time as he pulled away, lips and chin glistening with you as he knelt there, looking up at you. 

He stood up, one hand immediately moving to grip your hair, “Get on your knees to pray, amore.”

With a heaving chest, you were pushed to your knees, nearly collapsing as you did so. You gripped his thighs as you looked up at him, staring as he made you watch him unbuckle his belt, the metal clanking loudly in your ears. 

Body shivering and hands gripping his thighs, he kept his focus on his cock, the way it painfully ached under his clothes. He wanted nothing more than to stuff you right then and there, but seeing as you were so sensitive from cumming so hard moments prior, he thought he could relieve some tension and get you warmed up again all in one go. 

Efficiency is key; it’s what he was taught as he went through his training to become Papa.

So here he was, one hand in your hair and the other tugging his clothes away with a hiss to let his pulsing cock spring free. It bobbed in front of you, making your mouth water at the sight of the creamy tip dribbling with precum. 

His poor cock was all achy, twitching under your gaze. The way the veins bulge around the thick shaft made you widen your eyes, Terzo groaning above you in bliss as the pressure of his clothes was finally off his cock. 

He wrapped his hand around the base, carefully squeezing it to let some more precum dribble out dropping to the floor between your knees. He moved his hand up, rubbing his thumb over the tip to spread his arousal over him, using his soaked glove and his precum lube himself up. 

You couldn’t hide your smirk as you looked up at Terzo, watching him begin to stroke his length, very obviously putting on a show for you. 

He shifted his hand, pulling your hair to jerk your head back and toward him. He gently slapped the tip against your cheek, “Open for me, tesoro.”

With no hesitation whatsoever, you softly parted your lips, just the way you knew he liked it. 

With a satisfied chuckle, he pressed the tip onto your lips, smearing the salty precum there. He gently nudged it into your mouth, pushing your mouth wider and wider as he slid in, the warm wetness of your mouth providing him with long overdue relief.

He sighed, gently rocking his hips into your mouth without a moment’s notice, fucking himself into you. The way your soft tongue ran along the length of his cock with every movement, coating it in your saliva, made him drop his tense shoulders and let his head roll back. 

“Cazzo si….” he moaned lowly, hips bucking a bit faster, making you moan around his cock. The vibrations made him groan, inadvertently bucking roughly down your throat. 

You choked for a brief second, only able to cough and get your breath back when he yanked you by the hair back. 

Before you could look back up at him to take him back into your mouth, his hands hooked themselves under your arms and dragged you to your feet. It was dizzying, the way he moved so quickly. One second your were kneeling on the wooden floor, knees aching and body shivering as the heat of sucking his cock invaded your core, the next you were standing, panting with shiny lips and wide eyes, and finally, you were bent over, elbows on the bench and face pressed against the wooden screen. 

“Terzo… shit!” you exclaimed, feeling the soft tip of his cock pressing against your puffy lips. 

He didn’t say a word, choosing to stay silent instead as he rocked his hips to slide the tip of his cock up and down your soaked cunt, swirling around your drooling entrance before moving down to nudge at your achy clit, spreading your wetness around himself. 

“Can’t wait, need you, amore. Need to feel you clench around my cock, you have teased me for far too long…” he murmured, one hand gripping one of your ass cheeks to spread it, eyeing the way you clenched at his words. 

“Please, Terzo, please!” 

He pressed the tip of his cock, red and creamy, against your entrance, gently pushing it against it before pulling away, teasingly, “You play with your papa so evilly so… and i fucking love it.”

With that, you cried out, feeling him push his cock into you, stretching you out and filling you with pure, unadulterated bliss. You could only gasp and moan into the screen, cheek slowly getting imprinted with the braided design of the wood as you held yourself against it, nails scratching along the frame. 

“You like that, amore? Feel good to be stretched by your papa? Feel good to finally be split open by my cock after weeks of this stupid little game of denial?” Terzo rambled, too lost in the feeling of your bare cunt squeezing him to focus on what he was saying. 

Your knees shook as you bent over the bench, threatened once more to give out on you. Lucky for you, Terzo’s large hands immediately went to your hips, gripping them so hard that his fingertips were sure to leave bruises for you to trace later, keeping you up and in place for him.

“Take it, tesoro, take my cock,” he chuckled, focused on watching your body swallow him in. He shuddered, finally bottoming out. Your hips pressed against his own, making you sigh and whine as you felt the rough fabric and metal of his belt and pants press against your tender skin.

He snarled at your noises, “Don’t fucking whine, this is what you get for being a dirty little sinner and teasing me…”

His eyes traced your body, watching you shiver and twitch as he held you against him. With a smirk, he murmured to you, “Now… say your prayers.” 

His hips snapped back, beginning to thrust out and into you, roughly. The first thrust instantly winded you, making you choke out, having not expected him to fuck into you so quickly and without warning. 

But whatever grievances you had, he didn’t seem to even think about them in that moment. He just fucked himself into you, snapping his hips back before pulling you into him, meeting you halfway as thrusted into you, making you jerk back and forth.

With every thrust, you could only cry out in pain and pleasure, enjoying the way he used you and how your body reacted to everyone of his thrusts. From your fingertips clawing at the wood to your face being shoved into the screen to the metal of his belt slapping your skin with every thrust, you fucking loved it.

And frankly, so did your pussy.

Terzo reveled in the way you clenched with every thrust, pussy gripping his beefy cock like a vice as he used you like a fleshlight, all in the darkness of the confessional. With every drag backward, he could feel you tighten, almost refusing that he pull away. 

“Greedy pussy, so desperate for me to fuck it, hm? You like me fucking you this way, using your tight hole like it’s a toy made for me?” he gasped out, slamming his hips back into you.

Tears rushed down your cheeks as you bit your bottom lip hard enough for a metallic taste to bloom on your tongue. It was all too good, the shocks of pleasure thrumming throughout your body with every animalistic thrust, forcing your pussy to submit to him. 

Your whiny voice pleaded with him, begging him to make you cum as the round head of his cock mashed against your sweet spot. He only responded with slurred promises and unconscious latin chants, drooling as he felt himself get closer and closer too, eyes locked on your beautiful body as you thrived in the pleasure.

“Shhh amore, I will make you cum. Do not worry, my sweet, I will have you gushing on this fat cock in just a moment…”

He was drunk on you. Drunk on the way you would make sweet noises for him, singing for him better than anyone he had heard in the choir. He was drunk on the way your body swayed, covered in a sheen of sweat that made your skin glimmer in the low lighting. Drunk on you and his favorite cunt. 

“Gonna cum!” you screamed, throwing your head back, eyes screwed shut as you were baptized in a pool of mind numbing pleasure. 

Terzo immediately shoved his hand down, pushing his gloved fingers to your clit, rubbing it profusely as he spoke, “Cum for me, tesoro. Show me how you sin. Just like that, my sweet, what a good little sinner for me. Doing so well, taking my cock and cumming so hard, squeezing me so tight and making me feel… so… good…”

With a primal groan, he came, paying no mind to the creamy ring forming around the base of his cock or the loud squelching of you two fucking. Frankly, someone could open the door right then and there and he wouldn’t care, too focused on the way squeezed every last drop out of him. 

As you came down from your high, you could only twitch and moan, feeling the warmth of his cum inside you spread in your lower belly, only exaggerating the feeling of being stuffed full to the brim. It didn't help that with every thrust as he came down, cum dribbled out of you, either dripping down to gather around your clit or onto the floor. 

All you could hear was the sound of your joint panting, with the occasional low moan and whimper as your bodies twitched, spent. The feeling of satisfaction of being fucked silly began to seep into your bones, making you grin to yourself as you held your sore cheek against the screen.

“I will never do that stupid denial thing you made me do again.” Terzo murmured, accent thick through his heavy breaths. 

All you could do was laugh.

[fromthedust]

portrayals of bats in the 20th & 21st centuries

Bat Cabaret Sign - France - wrought iron, rolled iron, carved and embossed, green glass

pair of bats - ivory seal - China

Rene Lalique (French, 1860-1945) - bat brooch - 1900

bat design - Bijutsukai (Art World) - vol. 2 - 1901-1902

Rene Lalique (French, 1860-1945) - bat ring - 1901

Rene Lalique (French, 1860-1945) - bat pendant - 1901

Ferdinand Erhart (French, active 1891-1933) - Bat Belt Buckle - cast silver, carved and oxidized - 1908

Bat Brooch - France - c.1908

Henri Husson (French, 1852-1933) - Cup with Bat - c.1909

Ohara Koson (Japanese, 1877-1945) - Bats In Moonlight - c.1910

Harrison Cady (American, 1877-1970) - illustration for Mother West Wind Why Stories by Thornton Burgess - 1915

John Buckland Wright (British, 1897-1954) - illustration for Le Sphinx by Iwan Gilkin - 1919

Heinrich Kley (German, 1863-1945) - illustration for Der Orchideengarten (The Orchid Garden) - 1919

Bats and Crescent Moon - incense box - Japan - early 20th century

Weird Tales - October 1933

Black Bat Firecrackers

Edward Gorey (American, 1925-2000) - Bat & Ballerina - pin - New York City Ballet - c.1970s

Edward Gorey (American, 1925-2000) - Bats & Bicycles stencil illustration from The Broken Spoke - 1976

Edward Gorey (American, 1925-2000) - cover illustration for A Clutch of Vampires by Raymond T. McNally

Three of Bats - Tarot Card - 1996

Richard Cooluris (American, working in San Francisco) - Perseus and the Bat - mixed media painting on wood panel - 2016

Yegor Smirnov (working in Montreal) - Bat Ring - 3d-printed and casted in silver - 2016

Stephanie Inagaki (working in Los Angeles) - Trinity - charcoal & gold foil

Adam Binder (British, b.1970) - Bats - carved ebony & carved ivory

Wayan Tuges (luthier working in Indonesia) - Raised by Bats - Commemorative custom Blueberry guitar for Aurelio Voltair - 2020

[magnoliabutters]

• THOUGHT YOU DIDN'T CARE •

pairing: joel miller x (18+, she/her) reader

summary: joel and ellie are tasked to move a package from jackson to san diego. little did they know you were the "cargo..."

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language, cordycep apocalypse related violence & weapons, canon divergence, tlou part 1 & 2 spoilers; angst, medium to slow burn, pet names, voyuerism, sub!joel and dom!reader, age gap in pairing, masturbation, etc.

word count: ~6.3k

support your writer: reblogs for daddy joel ✨🌿

request: by @yourmomsmilfmistress; katrina babes, i have another idea!!! i was thinking something along the lines of (whatever male character you want/ im not picky) is OBSESSED with reader and one day after a torturous hangout he starts to 🍆💦 ( ya know) after she leaves and for some reason it's not working and it's like he's just edging himself but (of course) reader comes and walks in on it and it's like sub!male and dom!reader smut!!!

note: um… most definitely. the way i thought of joel freaking miller instantly. sub male? common now 😈 we are set in a post-tlou part 2 world where no one died, abby who?, and ellie lives happily on the farm (aka 20+ age). also, loosely following the plot of part 1. for visuals of characters, i am moving forward with what we’ve seen so far of hbo’s part one and game’s part two casting. although as it’s older ellie, i went with video game looks. hopefully that makes sense. enjoy my fellow hoes ⚡️

Don't tell them your name. Just tell them you're there to see Maria.

His words keep running through your head as you gallop atop your trusted steed, Horse. He told you, repeatedly, that they will find you - not the other way around. All you needed to do was get to the vicinity of Jackson County. Well, you are about a mile into said county and you haven't come across a single person. Let alone, a single runner.

The two things cannot co-exist this far from the cities. If there are no runners or clickers, then there must be people. If there are infected, there are no people. But emptiness? That is something unheard of. It puts you on edge. You swear you want to just yell, yell to draw something out. But that would be stupid. You don't know how many are out here ... people or infected.

You hop over a razor wired fence in the middle of the road. Its height hits a the top of your knee. Perfect stop runners. Your first sign that people have been in this neck of the woods. The deeper you get into Jackson County, you wonder why all you need to say is "I'm here to see Maria." Would these people attack you and saying those words would be the only thing to stop them? Or are they dumb enough to bring just about anyone back into their town? You have absolutely no clue what he has signed you up for.

Fear stands your hairs on end. It fuels your adrenaline and heart as Horse guides you into an opened field. On the main road, you read a sign that displays "surface may be icy." You're thankful you were assigned this job in the middle of July. In front of you, you note green ivory glued to the brick walls of an old music store. The roads were shit, as usual. Cracks and bumps from overgrowth and lack of maintenance. You hope they are not too rough on Horse's shoes. She had them switched out in Colorado, back when you saw your people last.

Horse abruptly stops. Harsh enough for your full body to push up against her back. "Fuck," you grumble with a hand to your head. "What the hell?" You slowly open your eyes to note the clicker before you. With widening eyes, you swiftly reach to unhook your knife from the saddle. As quiet as a mouse, you hop off of the pillion and carefully land your feet on the grass below. You side step as you make your way closer. its clicks grow louder as it uses its echolocation in the opposite direction.

Your eyes are constantly moving, wondering if there are any other infected around. There is luckily no movement. Just one single clicker. The fungi sporadically growing throughout its body. The cordyceps on full display on its face - if you can even call it a face. In your last two steps, you rush up to it. You hook your arm over its chest. Your fingers curve over its shoulder as you grip tightly against the rough flesh. With your other hand, you stab your knife into the crook of its neck. It quickly became limp in your arms. You let slide off your body and ultimately onto the road.

"Drop the knife," you hear behind you. The voice is rough and booming. You gradually put your hands up. You drop the knife, careful to have it fall upon its hilt and not its blade. "On your knees," it bellows. You laugh, tilting your head to the side. "No can do," you scoff. "I only get on my knees when I want to." The man behind you laughs as he slowly walks up to you. His boots crunching against the dirt and gravel.

"On your knees," another voice appears. Despite its higher tone, it is just as rough. A smile grows upon your face as you carefully drop to your knees. "Oh for you, of course," you mutter to the woman. She quickly grabs hold of your wrist and places it behind your back. Her grip harsh and tight. You release a laugh as you lean back into your captor. "I'm here for Maria," you mutter.

Abruptly, the movements behind you stop. The grasp remains tight. "Maria?" the exasperated man's voice pushes through the air. His boots' steps become faster as he rushes behind you. "Why?" the woman asks. You feel the cool head of a gun at the back of your neck. "Hey, hey, hey," you furiously mumble. "I-I'm a smuggler. I'm with a group of people who told me Maria owes them one. I just got sent here for her to pay the debt."

The gun is pressed harder against your neck. "What debt?" the man's voice asks. You move your head to the side, attempting to pull yourself away from the gun's focused point. The gun holder makes sure it stays against your skin despite your movements. "I don't even know, man. I was just sent here. They told me to say 'I'm here for Maria' and that she would know what to do," you spit out.

You hear the man pace behind you. He sighs heavily. His voice hushed as he speaks towards the woman. "I don't feel good about this, El," he whispers. "Does she have any people in her past?" the woman asks. "Not that I know of," he says as those steps draw closer once more. You are suddenly pushed to the ground. You cut up your chin as you couldn't catch yourself in time. "Fuck," you mutter into the ground. "Your name," he mumbles. "I don't have time for games." You yell as your palms lay flat against the surface. "Rita," you quickly lie.

"Alright, Rita," the man's voice bustles behind you. "Let's go." Next thing you knew, a bag was pulled over your head. Your head was then banged against the hard rubber bedding of a truck.

They grip against the bag over your head so hard that it pulls on some of your hair as it uncovers your face. Your eyes slowly blink to adjust to the light. "Shit," you grumble as you relax your arms, only to realize that you were tied to a chair. Rope. Fuck, you think. Rope hurts the most.

"Now, Rita, I'm not going to ask again. Why are you here for Maria?" The familiar voice asks. You squint to look in his direction. A latino man with slicked black hair crouches before you. You look behind him to recognize that you were in a stable - a wooden stable. There is hay all over the floor, but no horses. What kind of stable doesn't have horses? As your eyes trail back towards your feet, you note red splotches staining the wooden floor below you. "Damn it," you whisper the elongated swear under your breath. You know exactly what kind of place this is.

"I told you already, man," you whine. "My people didn't tell me shit. Just that I was assigned a job and Maria owed a ride." You look into the brown eyes staring holes into your face. "I'm here to collect on that ride," you whisper. "To where?" the man asks. "I'll tell Maria ... once I get my ride," you answer with a smirk. The man raises his fist as his upper lip tenses. You wince at the sight.

“Tommy!” You recognize the woman’s voice as he holds back his fist. She walks out from the darkness of one of the stables. You smile at the sight. She looks younger than you. Her reddish brown hair gave you goosebumps. Her eyes a greenish blueish grey. Something you would have envied as a child. She some how looks sweet, but also has clearly endured so much in her short time.

“So, we have Tommy,” you share as you nod towards the man. “And El,” you murmur as you look up to her. You smile - a smile that El winces at. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” you sigh as you attempt to shrug against the chair. “I don’t want to give anyone grief. I just need to talk to-” Suddenly, a remarkable woman bursts through the doors. Another man at her side. Her eyes serious and hellbent. Her skin a deep and beautiful brown. She is undeniably gorgeous, and surprisingly pregnant. She definitely had the glow, complete with her large firmed bump. “Tommy, what the hell is this?” she asks sternly.

Maria, you think. They never gave you a picture, but you knew from the second she commanded that room. The second both Tommy and El backed away from you. Their hands either up or open at their sides. She was in charge. And she was headed right for you. “Maria,” you say with a sing songy voice. Her head shoots your way. “I need a ride.”

Maria stares down at your smile. Her upper lip pulls, just like Tommy’s. “Where?” she asks calmly. “San Diego,” you answer. “San Diego?” she scoffs. “I don’t owe them that much.” You tilt your head, smiling to yourself. “Well, someone thinks you do,” you smirk. Tommy grunts as he steps towards you. Maria quickly puts out an arm across his chest.

With a sigh, she returns her gaze to you. Her arm still across his chest. You are curious about those two. “I obviously can’t take you myself,” she mutters. “Obviously,” you affirm as you nod towards her stomach. “I’ll find you someone. You’ll leave in the morning,” she says carelessly. She turns around and speaks to her people. “Untie her,” she says under her breath.

The man who walked in with her quickly follows through with her demand. You rub your wrists and forearms where the rope’s red rings pressed into your skin. You stand with the devil’s smile across your face. El is the first to walk up to you, while Tommy’s eyes are still daggers. “Hey, sorry,” she says as she rubs the back of her neck. “Things didn’t go so well the last time a new person asked about one of our people.” You hum as you nod. “Make sense,” you say under your breath as you return your gaze to Tommy.

“Maria’s his wife,” El adds as she follows your eyes. “He’s been extra sensitive, given the baby and all.” You smile at her words. She pulls your attention. “It’s also Ellie by the way,” she mumbles. She gestures goodbye and walks out. “Rita?” the man asks. You look at him with confusion. “My name’s Jesse. Come on, follow me.” With hesitation, you follow the tall man out into the dark night.

Your eyes quickly fall upon the string lights crossing from building to building. It is so beautiful your mouth gapes open. “We have a small bed and breakfast for travelers,” he shares as he points to a building at the end of the street. “Shit - a bed and breakfast?” you scoff under your breath. As you walk, you note the happy and clean people randomly walking about. They are loud - comfortably loud. It must be nice.

“Where you from?” Jesse asks. His gaze stuck on you. “I don’t do small talk,” you say with a weak smile. “I don’t mean to be rude.” He laughs, raising his hands. “No, I get it. Just trying to make conversation,” he answers. “Oh, well if we’re making conversation, tell me what your favorite color is,” you teasingly laugh. He chuckles, shooting you a sweet smile. “Orange,” he scoffs. “You?” You nod, smiling as you step onto the front deck of this apparent bed and breakfast. “Green.”

With quick goodbyes, you go inside and easily secure your room. The room is on the first floor. Inside the small space, you have a worn down desk, chair, and bed. Your pack is already resting against the foot of the bed frame. You grab the back of the chair and hook it underneath the door’s knob. You turn the lock and deadbolt the door. When you finally lay back to rest, you reflect on your day. It didn’t go as well as you had hoped - as you had been told. But at least you are alive. At least you are on your way to San Diego.

After the best sleep of your life, Jesse led you to a building across the way. Maria, Tommy, Ellie, Jesse, another woman and a man sit alongside a long dinner table. The woman appears sweet. She sits closely to Ellie. The man is something else. His demeanor laid back, like he had no care in the world. His face kind, but also worn thin after years of this shit world. You can immediately see through the facade and know he is good. But damn does he give off such a strong guard dog vibe. He has random patches of grey amongst his black hair and beard. His eyes dark, but youthful. You struggle to keep your eyes off of him. He watches you, though. He sized you up as soon as you walked through the door.

“Rita,” Maria calls out. You are too busy attempting to watch him through your eye lashes. “Rita,” she says louder. You quickly turn your attention to her. Only now remembering that Rita was the name you gave them. “Yes,” you answer with high energy. “These are my best people,” she shares. “I want Joel and Ellie on this.” Ellie sits up straight, shocked as she exchanges looks with the girl beside her. The two begin to discuss in hushed tones. The man abruptly turns towards Maria, disingenuously laughing under his breath. “No, Maria,” he scoffs. “That ain’t happening.” The man stands, his hands firm against the table. He must be Joel. Rarely have you met someone who’s name perfectly fits them. It makes you smile.

Maria sighs as though she saw this coming. “I would go myself-” she starts. “So let me go,” Tommy interjects. Joel and Maria quickly respond “no” in unison. Maria takes a breath as she slowly looks to her partner. “I’m about to pop. You can’t go,” she whispers. “I need you.” Tommy solemnly nods as he looks back towards the rest of the group. Maria turns back to Ellie with patient eyes. “Ellie, Dina - are y’all okay with this?” she asks. Dina nods, looking at Ellie. "J.J. will be fine. You should go," she whispers. Ellie then turns to Maria and nods.

Joel's scoff could be heard from two buildings down. "This is bullshit, Maria and you know it," he yells as he slams his hand against the table. Tommy stands, pointing towards him. "Watch it, Joel," he warns through gritted teeth. Maria takes a breath as she looks between Ellie and Joel. "You two have gone across state lines more times than any of us. This should be easy as pie," she says softly. He rolls his eyes as a deep, unenthused chuckle falls from his lips. "What's the cargo?" he asks with furrowed brows as he looks off in the distance.

Maria turns towards you. She rakes over you with slight confusion and hesitation. Within a second, there was a moment where her face smoothed out. She took a breath and returned to Joel. "She is," she states with finality. Your face remains looking down the table, but your eyes travel to Joel's seat. He gradually turns to look at the group. With a guttural growl, he says, "Absolutely not." Maria throws her hands up. "Joel, they will come to collect. I will not put anyone else's life in danger," she yells.

"If they come to collect, they can take her dead body," Joel booms as he pulls a gun from his holster and points it towards your head. You remain still. Your breathing intensified as the remainder of the group stands to their feet. "Joel," Maria says softly. "We need her - whether you like it or not. We need her in San Diego." Joel exhales through his flared nostrils. His mouth tight as he looks down at you through the sights of his pistol.

"What's so important about her?" he asks as he lowers the gun. Maria sighs in relief. "I don't know," she shakes her head. "All I know is these people helped us in a pinch back when me and dad started up. They said they'd come to collect and all they needed was a team to get something to San Diego." Tommy watches her intently. It must have been the first time she shared this with him. "I've seen what these people have done when groups don't pay up, Joel," she mutters. "We will not win that fight without losing everything."

Joel sucks his tongue against the back of his teeth. He holsters his gun and walks towards the front door. He hooks a backpack over his shoulder and turns back towards the group. "Ellie?" he asks as he slowly opens the door. You turn to watch Ellie kiss Dina. She presses her head against hers and whispers things you cannot make out. They separate with a strong embrace. Ellie walks towards Joel. "You coming, Rita?" she calls out behind her. You stand immediately. Your shocked eyes fall upon Maria and Tommy as you attempt to process everything that has happened in the past few minutes. You grab your pack and walk out to meet the pair in the street.

Ellie watches Joel with trust and a hint of distaste. You wonder about their story. As you walk up, the two stop talking and turn to look at you. "Hello," you greet awkwardly. "While we're out there, you do exactly what I say - when I say. Understand?" Joel says sternly as he points a finger in your face. How could those sweet eyes simultaneously look so threatening? "Understood," you whisper under your breath as you exchange looks with Ellie.

Joel quickly turns and heads straight to what looks like a mechanic's garage. "Does he always have a stick up his ass?" you ask as you skip to catch up with Ellie. She smiles, nervously biting her lip. "At first," she mutters under her breath as her eyes remain on him. "The Chevy," he asks a man standing behind the desk. He promptly hands him keys without question. You nod, noting how nice it must be to live in Jackson.

"Chevy, huh?" you say, attempting to start a conversation with the man. Joel completely ignores you as he slides the keys into the door handle. "Nice try, but he's not going to crack for a while," Ellie whispers in your ear as she walks to the other side of the truck. You laugh as you open the side door and hop into the backseat. "Seatbelt," he says softly as he points Ellie's way. "Oh," she mutters as she slides it over her body and clips it at her side.

The three of you sat in silence for the first hour of the trip. It was unbearably boring. Wyoming's sights were not as incredible outside of Jackson county. You wish you could sleep, but did not trust the two enough to even try. "Joel," Ellie starts but continues to laugh. "Remember when we cleared this hotel. Remember the tomatoes?" She laughs so hard that she holds her stomach. She leans fully against the passenger seat as she kicks her feet up. You swear you watch Joel crack a smile as he watches the girl burst into a laughing fit. You wish you got a better look.

"What happened with the tomatoes?" you curiously ask Ellie. She turns, struggling to speak between laughs. As she starts, Joel quickly interrupts her. "Don't tell her anything. She's cargo, nothing more," he instructs. Ellie sinks into her chair. Her expression perplexed as she seemed excited to share. "Just cargo, huh?" you taunt. His face remains still as he eyes focus on the road. "Wow, you Jackson people are the sweetest I've ever met," you say sarcastically. "Maybe I should just dip out on this trip. I can probably make it on my own."

Joel quickly slams against the breaks. Your shoulder digs into the back of his seat as you let out a stunned groan. "What the hell?!" you yell. "We are taking you to San Diego, or we are taking your body," he turns to say with stern eyes. You place distance between you two. A sudden rush of alertness and danger bursting through your body. "Let me be clear. I don't care if you're dead or alive by the end of this trip. We are paying off Maria's debt," he seethes. "I'd recommend shutting up if you plan to get there alive."

You suck your tongue against your cheek as you laugh under your breath. You lean back harshly against the back of your seat. "Eyes on the road, asshole," you say as you nonchalantly gesture towards the street. He rolls his eyes as he faces forward behind the wheel. He presses on the gas gradually. Ellie sits in awkward silent with a tight lip. She finds comfort in looking out the window.

Less than a week has gone by and you are barely crossing the border into Utah. In each passing day, you learn something new about Ellie. She loves to draw. She met her partner, Dina, on the first day she got to Jackson. Her son is named after Jesse and Joel. She calls him her "potato" - an incredible nickname you find endearing. The days are starting to blend together, but Ellie remains a highlight of each.

Joel, on the other hand, has remained annoyingly silent. He solely speaks to Ellie. If he does choose to talk to you, it is usually some demand where he forgot how to say "please." He is abundantly cold. It is infuriating. Here and there, you catch him staring your way. His glimpses seem familiar, as opposed to his usual and intentional looks of anger.

He never looks at your eyes, but his gaze tends to fall on your lips and hair. Any time you caught his eye line, he would immediately look away. The way his gaze lingered on you always left you in a ball of confusion. You thought you would have been on edge, being stared at for hours on end. Yet, you loved it. It made you feel seen. It made you feel beautiful. If he wasn't so vocal about his disapproval, you would think he had a "thing" for you. For now, you just enjoy his looks - hoping they are filled with adoration and not hatred.

Luckily for the three of you, communication was not needed as much when taking out the infected. The trio even came across a group of clickers a day ago. Without saying a word, the three put on their gas masks and stepped into the spores. They could all hear the clicking echoing through the old and damaged walls. With only nods and looks, the three separated and silently took down each clicker.

You turned to look at them with excitement. “That was awesome!” you said joyously. “Very SWAT-team.” Ellie was kind enough to crack a smile as she cleaned her blade on the side of her jeans. You turned to Joel, waiting for any reaction. He gave you absolutely nothing. He shook off the blood on his machete and gracefully placed it back onto his backpack. He then immediately moved toward the cabinets in front of him to search for supplies. God, did he really not have a sense of humor?

Tonight, you find yourself resting beside Ellie in a closed off room. The day was once again filled with ambiguous look exchanges with Joel. Your body aches from taking out runners. You wonder if you'll be in pain for the entire trip. The room rests at the end of a long hallway with no other entrances or exits. The only doorway to the outside was located at the end of the hallway and was guarded by the one, Joel Miller. You continued to wrestle with sleep as you lay uncomfortably in your sleeping bag. You have now spent hours staring at the plant infested ceiling. Ellie, luckily, rests peacefully at your side. She felt safe enough to put earbuds in to help her sleep. Another thing of hers to be jealous of.

After a few hours, you decide that it will most likely be impossible for you to sleep tonight. You quietly stand and put your pajama shorts over your undies. You open the door into the hallway. It's long corridor was scarier at night. You pull your flashlight from your pocket. Clicking it on, you remind yourself that the only door is at the very front. You would undeniably see if anyone entered the dark hallway with you.

As you reach the end of the hall, you begin to hear quiet moans coming from the other side of the door. Your mind quickly rushes to the thought of a runner making their way inside. But once you hear slight heavy breathing and groans, you immediately recognize that the sounds were coming from Joel. Excitement bursts through your chest as you press your ear against the door. You could not have imagined a better sound escaping his lips. His groans sound so sweet, so supple. You wish you could be the reason they fall from his lips.

You nervously turn back to see that the door at the other end of the lengthy hallway remained close. There was no way anyone would be able to hear at the other end. Not unless they were right where you were standing. With a smile, you hear his breathing louden. You wish you could see him. See his brows pulling together as his mouth hangs open. You wish you could watch him stroking himself. You would bet on your life that his cock was large and girthy. You have been stealing glances of it beneath his tight jeans.

Your mouth starts to water as you hear his moans grow louder. It takes all your strength and will not to burst through the doorway and beg him to let you help. God, would you absolutely beg for that man - without question. You wonder who's on his mind. Who could possibly be the lucky person whom he is wanking off to? Your legs feel weak. You actually contemplate sitting down and playing with yourself alongside his intoxicating moans.

“Oh, Rita,” you hear fall from his mumbling lips. Your entire body lights up with pleasure. He is thinking about you… Your legs buckle beneath you as you struggle to stay standing. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hear escape his lips. He must be close. You swear you can hear the slapping against his skin. All your blood rushes towards your clit. You want him - bad.

Out of no where, Joel stops. You hear a sound of frustration but remain curious. Was he edging himself? Shit. Why is that even hotter? you think to yourself. His moans slowly start again. Your mouth hangs open as you tighten your knees together. The friction feels good but it’s definitely not enough. You wish you could touch him. You wish he would be muttering your name as your hand strokes his dick. You wish his big hands could hold your head down as you take all of him in your mouth.

Almost as though you two were connected, Joel’s moans started to repeat more and more. His breathing heavies as your knees tighten harsher and harsher against themselves. Your clit now pulsating, desperate for stimulation. You cover your mouth, hoping your own gasping breaths were not loud enough to hear in the other room.

His voice strains as he gets closer and closer. He mumbles again, “Yes, Rita.” Shit, why aren’t you already in there? Your entire body is on fire but, oh, so nervous. You hear his skin slapping against each other. His moans growing louder. You hear a bump against the wall. His voice begins to break. God, he’s so fucking close.

“Oh baby just like that,” Joel whines. “Cum for me,” you whisper on repeat. Then silence fills the air. You worry if he might have heard you. You’re sure that him catching you listening in is so much worse than you catching him jacking off. “Damn it,” he yells softly with a grunt. That’s when you realize he isn’t edging on purpose. It seems like he can’t get past that final push. To release all that pent up energy.

You could help him. You know you want to. It’s the right thing to do. He must be in so much pain - all swollen down there, thinking about you. You would be helping him. You are so selfless. With a deep breath for courage, you quickly knock and open the door.

You spot Joel in his jean shirt. His legs are spread wide while he sits, bare, on the couch. His pants wrapped around his ankles as he holds his lengthy cock in one hand. His head rests back onto his other. As he hears the door creak open, he nervously grabs hold of a pillow and covers himself. You have never once seen shock and worry on the man’s face until now.

“Shit,” he yells as he scrambles to cover himself. You play dumb, covering your gaping mouth with your hand. “I’m so sorry Joel,” you whisper. “I-I thought I heard my name so I came out here,” you slyly taunt as you end with a smirk. Joel’s usual annoyed face returns as he realizes you know the truth. “Why didn’t you just come get me?” you ask innocently as you sit on the arm rest of his couch.

Joel watches you in confusion as he recognizes your advances. “I shouldn’t have done this, I’m-” he starts. You swiftly interrupt, “No need for apologies. I’m just confused is all.” You gracefully fall beside him. Your bare thigh touching his. The tips of your fingers dance atop his thigh. His grip onto the pillow covering his unit grows tighter by the second. “I thought you didn’t care about me,” you whisper as you lean closer to his face. You are now still, a few inches from his face.

"We don't have to do this," Joel mutters. His teeth locked as he watches you. He must think he's in danger. No, its quite the opposite. "Do what, Joel?" you ask as you pull away from him. You note a chair across from him. His backpack is sprawled over it. You carefully carry the backpack and place it closer to him. To show him that you are not something to be scared of. You then turn to sit in the chair. Your legs spread open as you bite your lip. Your eyes rake over the vulnerable man in front of you.

Joel watches you. He takes in shaky breaths. It is almost as though he is more nervous, now that he understands your intent. "Don't stop on my accord," you say as you gesture towards him. You slowly cross your leg over the other, batting him off with your eye lashes. You gently laugh as you watch him sit still, uncomfortable. "Oh, I get it," you murmur with a nod. "You need help." You watch your shoulder as you slowly push your spaghetti strap off it. You do the same with the other side. When you look back at him, a smirk is shown across your face.

His eyes are darker than normal. He still holds the pillow firmly against the skin between his legs. "Don't stop, Miller," you whisper as you slowly pull your shirt up. You expose your breasts to the cool air. Your nipples immediately harden. He involuntarily bites his lip as his eyes grow full of wonder. With that, he gradually pulls the cover off and shows his enormous cock. You start salivating. Fuck, you knew it would be big.

Joel's thumb starts to move slowly up and down his shaft. His eyes now fully on you. No pulling away this time. Pleasure fills your chest as you raise your chin and open your mouth. You lick your lips, hell-bent on tasting him. He starts to smile between soft moans. His rubbing becoming quicker as your hands calmly travel up your stomach and to your tits.

His breathing shakes harder as your fingers circle your nipples. Your tongue resting gently against your bottom lip. He loves it. His moans become louder as he watches you. "Oh baby," escapes his lips as he watches your sensual movements. "The name's y/n," you whisper. You smile at the shock spreading across his face. "I want to make sure you're moaning the right girl's name this time."

"Your name's y/n," Joel mutters under his breath. His movements stop as he watches you gradually open your legs. Your shorts clearly expose your inner thighs. It shows enough to give him the slightest sneak peek. "And your name is Joel," you coo. “Does that change anything?” He scoffs. A smile spreads across his face. First time you’ve seen it and shit is it beautiful. “Not a single thing,” he mutters. “Then rub one out for me, daddy,” you whisper as your hand travels down your stomach and atop your shorts.

Joel presses his tongue against his cheek as his smile grows larger. His hand starts to rub against his hardened cock. His fingers wrapped around his girth. You bite your lip. You wish it was your hand, but you are not giving up control. “Yeah, start slow,” you murmur as you adjust in your seat. His eyes track you. His eye line at your lips, waiting for the words to just flow out.

His breathing intensifies as he drops his jaw in excitement. “Ooo, just like that,” you whisper as you try to maintain deep breaths. Your clit begins to pulsate. Begging you to jump atop of him. “What next, y/n?” he asks with a gaping mouth. He fully enunciates your name with a smirk at the end. You laugh as your brows bounce. “Hm,” you think aloud. Your finger tapping against your chin. “Have your other hand play with your balls.”

Joel’s brow raises as he’s slightly taken aback. “Don’t make me say it twice,” you playfully seethe through your teeth. He sighs with a smile as his other hand moves from atop his thigh. He cups his balls slowly. A thumb rubbing between them. You suck in a deep breath as you adjust again in your sit. You can’t get comfortable. Your body screams that the only seat you want is on his lap.

His lower jaw keeps moving as deep breaths fall from his lips. “Shit,” he breathes. His eyes close ever so slightly. “Mmm’such a good boy,” you whisper. “Let me hear you.” He gasps as the muscles in his legs begin to tighten. He lets out a low moan. One so deep your entire body shakes. You let out a hesitant breath as your hand covers your mouth. You are trying so hard to keep in control, to be the dominant one - but shit did you want him to wreck your pussy so badly.

“I know you can moan louder than that,” you murmur with a grin. Joel softly laughs and quickens his movements. His breath is fast. His eyes closed. He sits up straighter. His hand slaps against his skin. You spot precum falling from his tip. “Shit,” you mumble under your breath. His head starts to fall back. It rests against the wall. He moves faster and faster. You squeeze your thighs together, holding your breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines. You could just about faint. “God, you’re going to make me cum, y/n.” You dig your nails into your thighs. You want nothing more than to see this gorgeous man cum all over himself. “Cum for me, Joel,” you whisper in excitement. Your entire body feels on fire. Goosebumps travel throughout your skin. “I want your big cock deep inside me, Joel. Please cum for me,” you gripe in an innocent voice.

“Oh, fuck,” Joel moans as his brows pull together. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter than before. You hear his voice raise in pitch. Higher and higher as his body moves faster and faster. You note him thrusting into his own hand. He looks so strong. He would feel so good thrusting inside of you. Finally, his breathing fastens and he starts to moan louder than before.

“I’m cumming. I’m cumming, y/n,” he whisper yells as his body tenses up. You immediately rush in front of him. You sit on your knees as you watch the show, up close and personal. Beads of cum stream down his elongated cock as he strokes firmly. You place much effort in keeping your hands to your sides. You watch as his breaths begin to slow.

“Fuck, Joel,” you say breathless. His eyes start to open. He lets out a gentle laugh through his smiling face. You crawl between his legs. His smile quickly falling as he curiously watches you. There you sit, his softened unit before you. “Your turn to help me, Miller,” you say as you bite your lips. His smile re-emerges as his hand pushes your shoulder back towards the ground. His body slides over you until his face hovers above yours. “Yes, ma’am,” Joel whispers as he plants a kiss on your lips so hard, yet so soft, that you completely fall head over heels for the man.

note: whatcha think? joel screams sub and fuck do i love it. also episode 3?? can someone just cry with me about that real quick? shall there be a part two? 🤫

*edit: there shall be & here it is

taglist: @fan-fiction-floozy, @dirtydianaahah

reblogs are much appreciated! feel free to comment or message if you’d like to join a tag list! 🌿✨🌿

• nav • no-no plagiarism • one shot • requests open •

[unholyhelbig]

Can you do spider!person x Kate Bishop with a soulmate AU?

[A/n: I've never been a massive fan of Soulmate au's but, for some reason this one really got under my skin and helped with some writers block, so, thank you!]

Title: Magnetic

Ship: Kate Bishop x gn!reader

Disclaimer: I did not proofread, if there are mistakes, I'm sorry!

Main Masterlist | Ao3 | Request Prompts

Summary: Reader is a spider!person from earth-2099 and Kate Bishop is curious about why she's so drawn to them.

The piano stood in the center of a restaurant that seemed to harvest the warmth of every candle. They were unscented, casting a deep yellow glow that shaded the patrons’ faces and stretched them in shadows. You had figured that you could be no true judge of character when those around you were bathed in untrustworthy light.

Having live music was part of the charm, or so you had been told. Classically trained and playing the same sonatas over ivory keys for left over bread and mistaken orders. People would send food back for the slightest hint of sodium, too much cilantro, too little portions. Of course, you could keep your tips at the end of the night, sometimes they would brim the elegant glass jar on the hood of the piano.

Sometimes, you’d see nothing but a brass quarter that a man who smelled too thickly of tobacco would drop to its basin. He’d tell you the story of the general carved into the front, a confederate, you had no doubt. And you would nod, your fingers doing all the work to keep up the quiet ambiance of the lobby.

At one point, you remember enjoying playing the piano. Of course, that was before you mastered it. When you were a novice, it was fun, you’d ply each note and double down on the pedals. You’d take risks. But the restaurant did not want risk. They wanted sub-par entertainment.

You knew you were good, better than good, you were perfect. You’d had all the time in the world to get to this point and you’d lean on your talents if it meant a good meal and something to do. It distracted you from your own discontent with this world. With 616.

The clinking sound of a piece of copper against a glass pulled you from your thoughts. Your hands were gliding along the keys all the same, undeterred from the distraction. Though, you almost caught yourself ‘C’ sharp.

Kate Bishop stood in front of you, leaning against the side of the Kawai, it’s black finish reflecting her pensive stare. In all the universe, she still had the same slightly-infuriating, adorable face of determination that she wore now.

Of course, she had an evening gown, and of course she dressed the part. She wore something emerald, green, reflecting from her gray, storming stare. Kate’s lips were painted red, her skin like snow. You caught a whiff of Rosemary, and was that mint? It was freshly tilled from the ground.

“I have questions.” She said.

She showed no signs of leaving, and you didn’t’ want her to. Though, she obstructed your view of the hostess and therefore, your manager, Gary. So, you gestured, asking her wordlessly to take a seat on the bench next to you.

Kate’s confidence faltered, but she delicately lifted her dress from the floor and lowered herself onto the bench next to you. There was a certain heat about her, one that you could feel as she stared down at the keys, at your touch moving across them with ease.

You could feel her stare on the side of your face, burning, making your stomach do flips that threatened your composure. It didn’t’ seem to matter which universe you were in; 616, 2099, 219 and hundreds more- Kate was always there. She was always disarming and part of that infuriated you.

“Do me a favor, will you?”

Kate furrowed her brow but lifted her chin. There was a quiet contemplation about her, one that warmed your skin. She looked magnificent in that dress, show-stopping. Each wandering eye from the patrons of the restaurant had nothing to do with you, or the music. She had captivated everyone in the room.

“Slowly- F sharp, then B flat and C.”

Kate scoffed “I can’t keep time.”

“I’ve seen the callouses on your hands. You can keep time. What is it? Violin?”

“Almost, the cello.” Kate pressed the first note, and then the other two. She listened to what you played and matched the rhythm with one hand. The other ran over the stitching of her dress. “I didn’t come here to play, Y/n.”

“And I didn’t’ come here to talk, it seems that we’re at an impasse.”

Kate clenched her jaw. You gave her a smirk and settled into the last notes of the song. A few seconds to pull your shoulders back and you began to shift the mood of the room with the soft crescendos. “Alright. Ask your questions. I’ll answer them.”

“Truthfully?”

You hummed “If I can. Silence will speak wonders.”

“Right. Okay. Fine.” Her voice lowered to nothing but a whisper, a warmth against your cheek. “You’re Spiderman.”

“That is not a question Kate. That is a statement.”

“I’m getting there. You’re Spiderman, but Peter is Spiderman. I’ve lived with him for three years, that’s not something you can hide. And then suddenly, there you are, in a really… I mean, the suit is nice, the colors are- wow- but you’re not Pete.”

“I’m failing to see the question.”

“You’re infuriating, you know that?”

You smiled at her “Yes.”

She grumbled and crossed her arms over her chest, drawing in a deep breath before she continued. Gary was eyeing you from the host stand, a furrow to his brow. You nodded at him, and he moved his attention down to his clipboard.

“Have you ever considered different worlds?” You asked.

“I’ve interacted with a talking raccoon who is surprisingly adept at disassembling a cherry red 1970 Dodge Challenger. Nothing surprises me anymore.”

You laughed, and her cheeks matched the exterior of the car for just one moment before she grimaced and returned to her composure. She stared at you expectantly as you finished the last of your song. Your hands lingered on the keys, but you didn’t start another one. Instead, you stood, took the jar off the top of the piano.

Kate watched you expectantly as you held your hand out to her, lifting both eyebrows. Your shift was over, and even if it wasn’t, you were sure you’d leave with Kate if she asked you to. Explaining something like this, you’d done it a million times to a million different Kate’s but it always made your heart scream inside your chest all the way to your fingertips.

She took your hand, the warmth was overwhelming. You led her outside, the jar tucked under your arm and the city lights boring down on wet pavement. For a few moments, the two of you walked aimlessly- much too overdressed for your surroundings. There was too much in the air, and somehow, never enough.

“Every single decision that we make has consequences, has chain reactions. And each time we make a choice there is a world out there that plays out in succession.” You shoved your hands into your coat pockets, breath steaming in front of you. “There’s a world where we are still sitting together at the piano. There’s one where my manager Gary fired me for talking to you in the first place.”

“I think I get it.” Kate nudged you with her shoulder, “But that doesn’t explain how you made it here. Isn’t there some type of cosmic consequence that comes with this kind of thing?”

“Typically, yes. If you were to meet the Kate from earth 20368, then things are bound to explode. She was a nice girl, by the way. Kind of reckless. But things don’t work the same way for me. I’m an anomaly. There’s only one of me.”

“You’ve lost me.” Kate stopped, pressing the tips of her fingers against her temple. “We’ll circle back to the ‘was’ you threw in there.”

“I’m sorry” You chuckled, “I’ve done this hundreds of times, and it still doesn’t get any easier. I’m originally from Earth 2099. It’s a reality that’s much like this one, but sort of… Frankensteined from all of the other earths. There was a man there, a scientist, a geneticist, that flew a little too close to the sun. Hence me. Hence my whole family.” 

Kate parted her perfectly painted lips to say something, but you didn’t’ give her a chance. Instead, you dug through the change in your pocket, forking over two crumpled dollars to a greasy looking man behind a peddled cart. You could smell the salty aroma of hotdogs topped with sauerkraut and mustard.

“Thank you, Benny” you said, passing Kate one of the hot dogs, wrapped in a coffee filter. She took it without question and you dropped the rest of the change in your pocket into his tip jar before the two of you fell into a perfect silence.

“I can’t tell what bothers me more. The use of Frankenstein as a verb, or the fact that you talk in riddles. It’s all very confusing.” Kate took a bite of her hotdog and moaned with pleasure “Jesus, this is a delicacy.”

“I don’t mean to talk in riddles, you know? The answers you crave aren’t straight forward. There’s still a lot of that I’m trying to figure out too. A lot of unspoken rules. Things that I would have changed if I had the chance.”

You took a bite of your own hotdog, chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. Kate was watching you, her deep stare moved to the corner of your lip. She tentatively, gently, used the side of her thumb to wipe away a bout of condiment. It took everything in you not to sigh into her touch, to pull her in for a lengthened hug and breathe I her scent.

There was a pressure below your eyes, a sadness that you at to blink away. There was a sudden interest in your shoes and the way they weren’t built for the wet streets of New York. You whispered “You’re not my Kate.”

“I’m sorry, I overstepped I shouldn’t have-“

“No, no. It’s fine. Really.” You drew in a cold breath, one that burned your throat “On my earth, the one that I’m meant to be in, the one that I was created in, there was a Kate Bishop. We grew up together, laughed together, cried together, loved together.”

Kate’s voice was nothing more than air “what happened to her?”

“She died, in my arms she died. Was stubborn until the end about it too.”

 You frowned and threw the rest of your food into the nearest trashcan, not having much of an appetite anymore.

“I was engineered in a lab, much like my brother and sister and every single person around me. I wasn’t meant to fall in love, but you made it difficult not to. I had a falling out with my father, and he’s a man of science over anything else.”

“So, he killed me? Her?”

You swallowed the cold lump in your throat again and nodded. The tips of your fingers were numb with the weather, so you shoved them back into your pocket and watched as the beginning of rain began to fall. It distorted the reflection of traffic lights against the pavement.

“You have to understand, Kate. I ran away from 2099, stole the tech from my father’s lab and ensured that he couldn’t track me. My plan, it was to hide out in whatever world it took me to. I would grow old and die in solitude, have a normal life that I wasn’t engineered to have.

“But you were there, and there was color to your cheeks, and you were smiling. After I got over the shock, I decided to leave, go to whatever earth the device spits me out into. And there you were again, and again, until finally- I realized that wherever I went, some version of you would be there, and the same version of me was still hopelessly, undyingly, in love with you.”

“This is…” Kate frowned, got that same crease between her brows that you wanted to smooth out each time. “A lot to process, and that hot dog is about to make a second appearance.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I know.” You groaned, for a moment, staring up at the stars that mixed so delicately with the falling rain. “When I told you on Earth 181 you threw up over the side of the Brooklyn bridge.”

“Oh, nice. After that?”

You shrugged, looking back down at your feet “After that you pretended like none of it mattered. Which I’m not expecting you to do. Trust me, I’ve tried avoiding you, Kate. In every universe I’ve jumped to, I do everything in my power to keep myself away from you.”

“Thanks, that makes me feel fantastic.”

“You know what I mean. There are times when I think, I know that your life would be better without me in it. Meddling, existing. But during those times where I didn’t seek you out, you would find me. Kind of like tonight.”

“I… Couldn’t help myself.” She resigned “I’ve seen a million different masked heroes and have no desire to lift those masks, to find out their secret identities and insert myself into their lives. But it was different with you. It was magnetic.”

“I know, I get it.”

“So, what do we do now, then?”

“You do nothing.” You told her, lifting your chin. You watched the way her eyes moved with confusion and curiosity, the way her chest rose and fall with each breath she took. She was cold, so you pulled your jacket off and draped it carefully over her shoulders. Kate seemed to sigh into it, content for only a moment. “And I leave.”